


Don't Stand So Close to Me

by LifeInAColorWheel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Draco/Harry - Freeform, Draco/Reader - Freeform, Drarry, Drunk Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Panic, Gay Sex, George Weasley - Freeform, Hatred, Hints of Ron/Hermione, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Lucius is an asshole, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger - Freeform, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Slytherin Common Room, Smut, Sub Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Veritaserum, Work In Progress, fred weasley - Freeform, love potion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeInAColorWheel/pseuds/LifeInAColorWheel
Summary: Draco Malfoy is failing Defense Against the Dark Arts and has to be tutored by none other than Harry Potter.or,Mutual hatred between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy during tutoring sessions lead to some pent-up sexual frustration and anger.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Comments: 53
Kudos: 352





	1. I'll pay you, of course

“Mr. Draco Malfoy, I believe we ought to speak after class,” said a professor with particularly long, oily dark hair; the blonde, in turn, did not take very long to cast his typical ill-tempered look at the remark. “But rest of you may go.”

Harry Potter, on the other hand, was intrigued to hear Malfoy be cast aside by the one professor who seemed to favor him. It served him right, though. He couldn’t be held to a high standard forever, much as he liked to believe that to be true.

Harry watched as the Slytherin merely slouched further into his chair, eyeing everyone enviously as he trailed out of the classroom. He then faced forward, a scowl on his mouth, to glare at Snape coldly—he looked betrayed by the fact that the Potions teacher had broken their unspoken truce.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noted a wild dash of red move in his direction. The red was paired with a freckled face, and long limbs.

Ron gave Harry a triumphant look as he strode over toward him. He nodded toward the Slytherin, who was now deep in discussion with Professor Snape. “Appears as though Malfoy’s tomfoolery is finally catching up to him, you think?”

Harry was watching Malfoy intently though, and was only able to manage a little hum of acknowledgement.

He was standing at Snape’s desk fully engrossed in their talk while all of the other students continued to walk out, seemingly relieved to have avoided their own talk with Severus Snape—and Harry could not blame them.

Even Malfoy looked abashed as he was spoken to, Snape looking at him disapprovingly through eyes squinted so hard that they almost appeared closed.

“You coming?” Ron tapped Harry’s arm abruptly. “I was gonna meet with Hermione for lunch. They’re serving meat pie today.”

“What? Oh. You go ahead. I’ll catch up,” Harry said, not looking away. He had not even noticed when Ron gave him a funny look at his hasty disregard for meat-filled bread, said his goodbye, and walked out in the direction of the dining hall.

Harry pretended to be cleaning up some of his mess from class, wiping off bits of troll fur from the desk. He caught bits of the two’s conversation. “Dark Arts… ridiculous… failing… disappointed... your father.”

Harry suddenly felt cold. Dark Arts and Malfoy’s father, who was a Death Eater,  
could not be a promising conversation.

Snape stopped mid-sentence, as if he just noticed that Harry was the only student besides Malfoy leftover from class, and said, in a cold voice, “May we help you, Mr. Potter?”

“No, sir,” Harry said quickly, broken from his trance. “I was just cleaning up. I’ll be on my way.”

Snape sneered. “What a good idea.”

He gathered his books and cast a final look in their direction. Malfoy met his eyes unwaveringly, which narrowed into dark slits similarly to Snape’s before Harry continued on his way.

Harry’s stomach was in a knot the entire way to the Great Hall.

Harry had just stopped thinking about whatever Snape had been talking to Malfoy about, sitting alone at the dining hall as he had missed dinner with his friends, when an unwelcome reminder approached him. 

“Potter, Potter,” Malfoy drawled abruptly, giving Harry a small start. Harry looked up, annoyed, to see the blonde staring down at him condescendingly with a more-than-noticeable smirk. “So good to see you.”

Harry just stared at him, giving him as little of a reaction as possible. “We know that’s not true,” he said. “What do you want?”

“I have been informed that you are not terrible at Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he went on, looking at his hand as though it were particularly interesting.

Harry paused, waiting for him to go on, but when he didn’t, asked exasperatedly, “So?”

“ _So_ ,” Malfoy said in annoyance. “I need a tutor. Because I’m failing it, and I’d rather my father didn’t find a failing grade on my report card,” the blonde remarked, as if everything he was saying was entirely obvious without any sort of explanation. “I’ll pay you of course.”

Harry looked at Malfoy as though he had grown a second head. He felt like his thoughts could not catch up with what was happening in the moment.

In response to this, the blonde arched an eyebrow. He added, as if it were a great privilege, “So? You do want to do it, right?”

Harry was unable to hide any reaction now. He looked at him still, more dubiously now as he waited to see if there were any trace of a joke in this. However, Malfoy’s expression remained rather stone-like.

“I would need to be paid, in order to spend more than a minute with you,” Harry muttered, flicking his food off of his fork. 

Malfoy pursed his lips. “Is that a yes then? You don’t have to, I don’t need you,” he sneered, almost as an afterthought. “Snape mentioned it. But there are plenty of other half-decent wizards who would be more than pleased to—“

“Only a couple lessons, that’s it,” Harry cut him off. He definitely did not want to do it and he was growing more wary by the second, but it was money and Harry could use it for over the summer.

Malfoy looked pleased with himself, as if he didn’t always. “I suppose that’ll do.”

“I’ll see how much of you I can handle,” Harry added, trying to match Draco’s heat and feeling a bit idiotic at his weak comebacks. He was shaken by the fact that Malfoy would even approach him for a favor, a favor in public nonetheless.

A few Gryffindors were staring at him.

“Oh, and I’m really looking forward to this too,” Malfoy remarked, giving Harry an annoyed look as he crossed his arms. After a moment, he huffed and tucked his wand pointedly into his pocket. “Tonight at seven in the Slytherin common room?”

“On your turf?”

“ _Turf_? Honestly, Potter, I’m not planning to ambush you. Not before I get your help, anyway,” he sneered, looking less annoyed now and more cocky—as if he enjoyed having Harry so on-edge. “I would like my money’s worth, ya’know.”

Harry eyed him once more, noting that the Slytherin had pointedly put his wand away as if to signal that he was not going to do anything. “I suppose that works.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Malfoy murmured, casting his eyes away from Harry and turning his body away pointedly. “Let's get this over with.”

Before Malfoy could walk away, Harry drew his eyebrows together tightly. Suddenly, he felt very confused. “Malfoy,” he said, not coldly in that moment but instead curiously. “You said—Snape suggested this to you?”

The Slytherin’s expression was stony. “Yes. He did.”

“Oh.”

“Why?” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed accusingly. 

“No reason,” Harry said hurriedly. "I just... never thought he would do that."

"Well, it's not ideal for me either, _Potter_ ," Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah."

Malfoy eyed him for what felt like five long minutes before returning to his spot among the Slytherins. Every once in a while, Harry would see him glance over at Harry suspiciously.

Could this be a prank? A joke between Slytherins? Worse, could he be in real danger?

Harry barely touched his food after his kind began to turn over a number of scenarios. He instead poked at it as he tried unsuccessfully to swallow back some of the anxiety and stress he was now feeling. In that moment, he hated Snape more than usual.

He had meandered back to the Gryffindor common room, and then into his room, where he found Ron lying back on the bed, snacking per usual. He greeted Harry brightly but seemed to notice immediately that Harry was in a foul mood.

Harry, who did not wait for him to question him uncomfortably, unleashed a miniature rant (not directed at Ron, he reassured his friend) about Malfoy’s proposal courtesy of Snape.

“I can’t believe you have to spend your entire evening with Draco Malfoy,” Ron moaned when Harry finished his story, flopping back onto his bed again as he tore open another package of Chocolate Frogs. “Hermione’s studying for finals in the library, so I have positively nothing to do tonight.”

Harry grinned up at him, feeling slightly better now that he had been able to talk about the situation. “So I suppose... studying for finals is not on the table?”

Ron waved off his comment dismissively. “Another day. I’ve worked myself into the ground today.”

“You just finished class twenty minutes ago.”

“Now you’re sounding like my mother,” Ron tossed a piece of chocolate wrapping at Harry, narrowly missing his head. “Let me know if you need any backup with Malfoy. I can always hold his arms behind his back.”

Ron made some violent punching motions to demonstrate.

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Harry said in amusement, grabbing his Defense Against the Dark Arts notebook and textbooks. “Honestly, Ron, I think Snape enjoys torturing me. After all, it was his idea for me to tutor Malfoy.”

“Well we know he hates you,” Ron pointed out, not very gently. “So, yes he probably did this on purpose. Are we surprised?” He popped in a final piece of chocolate, and managed out a muffled, “Nope.”

Harry gave a long exhale. He fiddled with his wand nervously, wondering if he would be using it tonight against Malfoy—you never know with him. “I just think it’s strange. I’m good at Defense, but everyone knows Hermione is top of our class regardless.”

Ron shrugged. “Maybe he just thought you have more experience with You-Know-Who. He’d know about that, now wouldn’t he?” he added, a bit sarcastically. 

Harry was silent, choosing to not dwell on that last part.

“Look, mate, it’s weird. But it’s just classwork. If anything, Malfoy will just be his usually ass self,” Ron supported, propping himself up on his arms. “If you need me, though, I’m here.”

Harry was silent for a bit longer, before sighing. “Okay.”

“Good.”

“Well. Wish me luck,” Harry said. He tucked his material under his arms. “If I don’t come back, I was killed by a pack of overly-confident Slytherins.”

“Right,” Ron enthused.

Harry sent out for the Slytherin common room, feeling particularly uncomfortable with a deep sense of foreboding crawling throughout him. He tried to push it away as he reminded himself that this was a simple tutoring session—nothing out of the ordinary. Harry continued to repeat this to himself, churning it over in his mind as a way to calm himself down. It worked, he noticed, momentarily until he found himself in the common room.

Harry then tried to ignore suspicious eyes on him as he entered the Slytherin common room. It felt that all eyes were on him, which he should be used to, but also his robes felt overwhelmingly red in a mass of the dark green.

Malfoy, who was slouched in a chair, did not seem to notice Harry’s entrance, however.

Harry pushed his shoulders back, puffing his chest out a bit ridiculously as he approached Malfoy. “Hello,” he attempted in a controlled and cool voice. “I’m ready to begin when you are.”

Malfoy looked up at him and blinked. “You actually showed. I guess all that business about Gryffindors being honest is at least somewhat true,” he remarked, arms folded, as he leaned back at the table. “Or at least rather stupid.”

Harry ignored this comment, throwing the textbook open on the table. He began to flip through his notebook in search of the most recent chapter of study. “Don’t waste my time, Malfoy,” he snapped. 

“Testy, Potter,” Malfoy drawled slowly. “I’m paying you, don’t forget. I’ll waste as much of your time as I damn well please.”

Harry was intent, however, on flipping to the correct pages in the textbook. “You said it earlier Malfoy, let's just get this over with, shall we?”

Malfoy agreed surprisingly easily, but less than 30 minutes later, it was obvious that he was not planning on paying attention. He had his head on the desk and was pointing his wand at a glass to turn orange juice a deep blue, and then back to orange.

Harry weakly attempted to say his name in something that sounded professor-like, but Malfoy just grinned and continued to change the color of the juice. He looked proud and held it up to look at it more closely. He seemed to be intent on focusing on anything other than Harry and the homework in front of them.

At this point, Harry slammed his wand down against the table hard enough to at least make Malfoy look up, a sudden dark look in his eyes.

“What the hell?” Malfoy snapped. He stared darkly at Harry.

“What the hell indeed,” Harry agreed, voice so low that it took even him aback. “Good luck on your final grades. I won’t be helping. Hire a different tutor; like you said, you can afford the best.”

With that, Harry gathered his materials in his arms and walked off. He clutched his books in his arms and stalked out of the Slytherin common room, ignoring the disdainful looks he received. 

His head was foggy. He knew that he had perhaps jumped the gun on walking out on Malfoy, but Harry had his own studying to do, and Quidditch to practice for, and something of a social life, and-- and he was making excuses for Malfoy’s behavior. Which he did not need to do.

It was Malfoy’s own fault.

Harry slammed the door behind him so hard that it made Ron sit straight up in bed.

At first, he didn’t say anything, but watched Harry throw his books on the floor, his quills, his parchment, before falling back on his bed. He tore his hand through his hair.

“That good, huh?” Ron ventured.

Harry sat up abruptly too. “I don’t know why I even bothered,” Harry said. “I really don’t. I knew that Snape would have just had it in for me.”

“It’s over,” Ron supplied gently.

“You’re damn right it is,” Harry said determinedly. 

He rolled over and immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Bookmark for updates! :)


	2. it's just not worth it

The next morning at breakfast, Harry made sure that he was flanked by Hermione and Ron. He begrudgingly filled the two in on the way to the Great Hall about his experience with Malfoy the night before.

Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly while Ron called Malfoy a few callous names. 

Harry’s spirits lifted a bit when the two joined in on telling him that he was right to leave. This and shoveling in his mouth cheesy scrambled eggs piled high onto some buttery toast made him feel a bit more warm inside.

Then, he saw Malfoy stalking over in his direction.

“Uh-oh,” Harry said immediately. He elbowed Ron. “Look.”

“Oh, no,” Hermione looked away.

Ron ducked his head and Hermione set her fork down, her eyes looking over at Malfoy accusingly.

“Don’t start a fight with him, please,” Hermione pleaded. “Just please try to keep it tame.”

“I’m not the one going over to him during breakfast,” Harry muttered.

Malfoy then stopped right beside Harry, looking down at him with unmasked hatred. “I’d like my money back,” he said shortly. It sounded as though he wanted to say something else, but he just went silent.

Harry raised his eyes. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Malfoy snapped. “I would. You walked off halfway through our tutoring session.”

“And you were not even paying attention to our tutoring session,” Harry pointed out in a harsh voice, meeting Malfoy’s eyes confidently.

“So? I was buying your time, not the other way around,” Malfoy said.

“It’s not worth it.”

Harry heaved a great sigh, dug around in his pocket, and pulled out a few Galleons to slap them on the table. “Go on,” he said. “I didn’t want to do this in the first place.”

Malfoy snatched the money back. He pocketed it, his shoulders back and his chest forward. 

“Have your girlfriend tutor you instead,” Harry snapped.

“What, you mean Pansy?" Malfoy asked, surprising Harry, and giving a noncommittal snort of near-disgust. "Yeah, right. She's entirely full of herself and never thinks of anyone else. Honestly, I only hang around her because she would fail her classes without me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That’s saying nothing good about her.”

Draco suddenly looked coy. "Well, what about you? I heard you're dating Weasley's sister."

Ron looked up angrily, his fists clenched at the mention of his name.

Harry shot a glare over at Draco. “Yes, we’re dating, for your information.” It was not true but everyone thought they were. Even Ron knew this. But Harry said it anyway, in part just to spite Malfoy and in hope to get him to walk away.

Ron took a second to catch on and nodded unconvincingly. “Yeah, they’re together.”

Draco ignored Ron. He simply gave him a long stare and Harry noticed that he seemed thoroughly annoyed. “I don’t know why, honestly,” Draco replied, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “She isn’t even pretty. Kind of snotty too, if you really think about it."

Ron stood up, bracing himself, and Hermione had to yank him back down into the seat beside her.

Harry continued to stare at him angrily. “Well, you don’t have to talk about her like that.”

Malfoy lifted his eyes though still avoided eye contact. “Still, I don’t like her,” He said, and Harry could tell that he was willing to argue; he seemed to be looking for an argument. He had always been very stubborn after all. Perhaps this is what this had all been about: Malfoy had not had much of a chance to make Harry’s life hell lately beside the tutoring fiasco.

“Well it doesn’t really matter what you think of my girlfriend, now does it?”

“Why do you like her so much? Even you could probably do better than her,” Draco argued, still not giving up. “Maybe a nice house-elf,” he mused.

“I don’t care, okay?” Harry ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he was even telling Malfoy this. “Why do you care so much about this?”

Malfoy pushed himself so he was sitting in front of Harry. “So you don’t like her then?” He challenged, finally looking Harry in the eye. Malfoy looked different; normally he was so guarded. Right now, he appeared to be open, unmasked, and uncomfortably knowing. “You lied, then. You lied to me, Potter?”

Harry looked to Ron, who was staring in bewilderment. Hermione also had stopped eating and held her fork inches from her lips, mouth agape.

“I should have known, though,” Malfoy went on. “I figured that you would not dare marry into a blood-traitor family like them.”

Ron was pursing his lips, ears pink.  


“Malfoy, I don’t like her more than a friend,” Harry said slowly. “Now leave it alone. Why are you so concerned?”

Malfoy exhaled heavily. “You don’t mind yourself with that, Potter,” he sniffed, and put his nose to the air. “Run off your little troll of a girlfriend.”

He stalked away, his pockets now jangling loud with the sounds of the Galleons.

Harry’s head was spinning with confusion.

Ron was the first to speak. “What the bloody hell was that all about?”

***

Harry proceeded with lessons as usual. He was even feeling better about Malfoy over the next two weeks as the thought of him eventually seemed to Disapparate from his mind entirely. He chose to not mull over the thought of him anyway and, instead, was grateful to have one less thing on his plate.

Rather, he was back to enjoying quality time with Ron on the Quidditch field and accompanying Hermione to the library to work on some of their essays. 

Even Potions seemed to be only moderately frustrating, with Malfoy choosing to sit on the other side of the room with him. This allowed Harry to draw in ink on his parchment while Snape went over notes, with Ron beside him watching and Hermione on the other side taking notes meticulously.

Snape began to pass around their exams from the week prior and, at first, Harry did not give them much thought. He thought he did moderately decently. But then Snape placed a test, folded, on Malfoy’s desk. 

Harry couldn’t help but feel a bit of guilt when he just saw Malfoy immediately slip it into his robe pocket without a glance. 

He averted his eyes. He began to study his shoes as if they were truly interesting. 

“Potter,” Snape said slowly, before he could escape the classroom. “My desk.”

Harry winced, knowing at once what this was about. Hermione and Ron also seemed to catch on as they began to collect their belongings, looking a bit embarrassed to have to leave him behind. Harry could not blame them.

“It’s okay,” Harry murmured to them. “I’ll be fine, just go on without me.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione whispered, looking highly stressed. “I can wait outside the door.”

Ron shook his head. “He’ll notice, knowing him,” he said in a low voice. “He’s got eyes in the back of his head.”

“And he,” Snape uttered, “is demanding you out of his classroom at once.”

Hermione and Ron whitened, mumbling a sorry to Snape as they got up.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look and Ron mouthed apologetically to him as they left, evidently taking their time as if hoping to get an earful of what was going on.

Harry looked back to the front of the room.

Snape was sitting at his desk, not looking up from where he was as he wrote determinedly on parchment. He was frowning and gave Harry a disapproving, withering stare as he approached his desk. Harry tried not to appear as timid as he felt.

After a few seconds of silence, Harry said, “Yes, professor?”

“I have instructed Malfoy to be tutored by you.” Snape said this without looking up. He was scribbling profusely, grading papers. Harry noticed a number of failing grades.

“And he refuses to listen,” Harry snapped at once, immediately regretting it.

Snape then looked up and narrowed his eyes at Harry’s tone. “I’m not asking, Potter.”

“But—”

“POTTER,” Snape let out an angry noise and moved so he was nose-to-nose with Harry, who unfortunately was able to smell this morning’s breakfast on his breath. “This order is above me, I was not the one who wished for this. I never would have put Malfoy in the presence of such a pompous, slimy git of a student. Now, do as you are told for once.”

Harry’s head was pounding suddenly as he attempted to process all of that. He was only acutely aware of Malfoy standing feet away from them, arms-folded tightly.

At last, Harry let out a harsh breath through his nose. “I understand.”

Harry returned to the dorms to talk to Ron and Hermione briskly, explaining breathlessly that Snape had said that the orders were not his, that the wishes for Malfoy to tutor Harry were not his own. However, Harry could not figure out who else would put him in this sort of predicament.

Surely not anybody else on the staff? Dumbledore never was too interested in his and Malfoy’s arguments and would have nothing to gain from pairing them up. 

Ron and Hermione gawked at him.

He also mentioned how Snape threatened him with his grade (“Oh, no!” Hermione had exclaimed at once).

“So what will you be doing?” Ron asked. He was looking at Harry raptly, as though hanging on his every word of the story.

Hermione looked extraordinarily anxious about the situation. She was shifting in her seat.

“I guess continuing with lessons on Thursday as we had agreed before,” Harry said glumly.

“Well,” Hermione said pointedly. “Unless you’d like to fail Snape’s class, I suggest you just go along with it. Whether or not Malfoy actually wants to take you seriously should not matter.”

“Yeah,” Ron added hurriedly. “At least you get the money from it. And, hopefully, stay well above failing in Potions.”

Harry was amused for a brief moment. “I’ll take anything above failing at all.”

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione said, and Ron and he exchanged looks before Hermione went off on a tangent about how their grades were important for their future careers and… and then Harry’s thoughts began to wander. 

Harry attempted to enjoy his last couple nights of freedom but his mind was unwillingly plagued with Malfoy and Snape and cursing whoever had decided it was okay to put him in this predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Bookmark for updates! :)


	3. a great pain

Harry saw Malfoy in the hall the next day. He was laughing and joking around with some of his fellow Slytherins, who were looking at him with something of admiration that Harry himself could not begin to understand.

He would never comprehend how he was able to see right through Malfoy, yet his friends would continue to regard in a god-like manner. Abruptly, Harry was grateful that Ron and Hermione were not with him.

He could already hear Hermione chiding in his head to leave it alone. He could also hear Ron cursing Malfoy under his breath and trying to get Harry away from him.

Harry, however, felt that he wanted to approach him. He was still feeling angry about how Snape had berated him regarding tutoring Malfoy.

He waited, however, until the other Slytherins slipped away towards their own classes. Malfoy had decided to linger a bit longer. He did not look very concerned about getting to lessons.

“So,” Harry challenged once they had gone. “How did that test go?”

Malfoy turned on his heel and suddenly Harry realized how short he was by comparison to the other. That or the intimidating presence of Malfoy made him feel smaller than normal.

“None of your business, Potter. Contrary to what Snape says, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, looking down at Harry in disgust. “I was better on my own.”

“That’s not what Snape says.”

“Oh?” Malfoy jeered. “What did he say, then? You two good friends now?”

“I’m still supposed to be tutoring you whether you like it or not.”

Malfoy just smirked. “Well, I don’t like it.And I changed my mind,” he added. “I realized that I won’t benefit from having you as a tutor.”

“Maybe,” Harry snarled. “You’d benefit from at least going to class.”

Malfoy was beginning to bristle now, no longer smirking. “I’ll do as I please, Potter!” he said. “You’re not a prefect and you can’t tell me to do anything.”

“You’d rather not go to class?” Harry challenged. “Then don’t act shocked when you get failing grades and need me to tutor you!”

“You?” Malfoy looked doubtful. “At this point, I’d do better with Longbottom.”

“You two are on equal playing fields now,” Harry said, instantly feeling guilty for bringing Neville down in the meantime. “How does that feel?”

“I’m not doing as bad in that class as you think, Potter,” Malfoy said. “Don’t get high and mighty on me.”

“Not bad? Then would you like to try re-taking that test? I know the first time you did so exceptionally well. Failing grade was that?” Harry’s dared. His anger burned a hole in his stomach. 

Malfoy launched himself at Harry. 

Harry was surprisingly ready, trying to go for his wand, but Malfoy had him so that he couldn’t move his arms. They went down together, Malfoy landing heavily on top of Harry and practically knocking the breath out him.

“I’ve broken your nose once, and I’ll do it again,” Malfoy hissed, using one hand to hold down Harry’s arms and the other to try to hit him while he squirmed.

Harry was shaking with anger. The week’s pent-up anger toward Snape and stupid Malfoy, who he just could not seem to get away from, was taking over and he wanted nothing more to deck him. One good solid punch ought to do the trick—

“Hell,” Harry said, using his feet to attempt to batter Malfoy but he seemed awfully persistent. He reached out and grabbed his shoulders, trying to wrench the other off of him. “I’d just love to see you try.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Malfoy snarled.

The two got in a few good punches. Malfoy’s fist connected with Harry’s eye enough to leave a print where his glasses were. Harry’s glasses slipped off, undoubtedly damaged in some way. Harry hit Malfoy enough to leave a couple of well-placed bruises on the side of his face.

He was panting, red-hot with anger. 

Harry was just about to grab hold of Malfoy again when—

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy! What are you— oh my, no! Absolutely not,” said a familiar voice that Harry recognized as Professor McGonagall. “Professor Snape, please help me. Boys! Boys!”

By the time the two were able to pull the boys off of each other, Professor McGonagall brushed her hair out of her eyes in exasperation. “Now,” she huffed. “Would you care to explain yourselves?”

Snape just had a dark expression on his face, looking furiously at Harry as the scuffle was entirely his fault—which, Harry thought, meeting his professor’s eyes, it was not.

“He—he,” Harry sputtered. He was so furious he could barely speak. “He just…”

“Don’t you blame this on me, Potter,” Malfoy hissed, trying to elbow him. And, when Harry tried to dive for him again, he was held back this time by McGonagall.

“Potter, I told Malfoy to reach out to you for help in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. I instruct you to take him under your wing and instead, you found it appropriate to absolutely swing on one another in the middle of the common room,” Snape drawled.

“He started it,” Harry began. His cheeks felt hot.

“Very mature, Potter,” Snape said sarcastically. “Unfortunately, I may not have been direct as I should have been.”

Malfoy cast Harry a confident look. He looked far too pleased with himself and Harry was half-tempted to try to break out of McGonagall’s surprisingly firm grip.

“Help Mr. Malfoy, or I shall drop you a grade in Potions—”

“That isn’t fair!” Harry protested, leaping out of his chair. “It’s not my fault he’s struggling in class!”

Professor McGonagall held her breath, looking as though she wanted to interrupt and put Snape’s demands to bed. At last, she spoke. "Severus, I don't find that appropriate..."

"If you have a problem with it, we can speak alone. I can explain then," Snape said coldly.

McGonagall looked appalled at being spoken to but pursed her lips. "I expect a proper explanation."

"You'll get one," Snape said. He then turned to Harry again.

Harry gaped at McGonagall. Would she do nothing else? What would Snape tell her?

“Was I unclear?” Snape cut him off in a voice so callous that Harry did not dare argue but instead gave Malfoy a dirty look. 

The Slytherin, however, looked content.

“No, sir,” Harry said softly.

Snape’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile, one that Harry knew admittedly all too well. “Glad that we are, for once, on the same page, Potter,” he said. “If I hear another any other… skirmishes… I shall drop your grade—maybe two if you give me another reason to even breathe a word to you.”

Harry’s heart sunk, feeling defeated. “Yes, sir.”

He picked up his glasses, muttered “ _reparo_ ”, and slipped them on.

Then, he slunk away, not daring to look at Malfoy or Snape. His blood still felt hot and his skin seemed rather itchy. Over and over, he clenched and unclenched his hand around his wand in the pocket of his robes.

Hermione and Ron had both voiced their concern for Harry and Malfoy’s latest conflict, as Harry had expected.

“I’m going to confront him again,” Harry said determinedly. He ignored Hermione’s pleads to just let it go. Ron even offered to take him on in a match for Quidditch but for some reason, he could not bring himself to drop it.

“Just let me talk to him. No fighting,” he said, trying to soothe Hermione.

She was still fretting over his eye. “You’ll be all bruised up tomorrow,” she scolded. “Honestly, boys are just so stupid sometime. Fighting!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “He can handle himself, Mione. If he wants to get his ass kicked again, he can.”

Harry rounded on him for a moment but then realized his eyes were gleaming with good humor. Again, Harry felt guilty for the second time that day. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said to Hermione again.

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking worried.

“If you need us, you can come get us,” Ron assured. “Do you want us to wait down here?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll be good.”

Hermione eyed him wearily. “Okay,” she said grudgingly. “If you say so. But just come get us if you need us! We won’t be far, I think we should be able to hurry back. And--”

“Hermione, please,” Ron moaned.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Hermione snapped and grabbed Ron’s arm. “Lets go, Ron. We need to let him do what he feels that he needs to do,” she said, casting Harry a look over her shoulder as she led Ron away.

Harry had later waited for Malfoy to show up to the dining hall. He could hear his own blood roaring, his entire body tense with rage and frustration, continuously gripping and letting go of his wand menacingly.

“You are such an ass,” Harry said, shoving him roughly. “As if I didn’t have enough on my plate and there are plenty of decent tutors out there, you had to nag Snape to get on my case. Can’t you afford the best?”

Malfoy’s nostrils flared for a moment. He looked as though he had not expected to see Harry again. His face was guarded, jaw set tightly.

To Harry’s pleasure, Malfoy’s face still appeared blotchy and red from where he had been hit. 

After a moment, Malfoy snarled, “You are the best, to my great misfortune.”

Harry got quiet but he could still feel the blood roaring in his veins. “Pretty compliments don’t work on me, Malfoy.”

“You’ve got it all wrong if you think I’m complimenting you, Potter,” Malfoy snapped. “I’m talking strictly about grades and experience. And yes, I could go elsewhere. But I’d rather my father didn’t know about my needing a tutor.”

Harry stayed quiet again.

“Not that I need to explain myself to you,” he added quickly, almost defensively when he saw that Harry did not react to the statement about his father.

“Fine,” Harry said shortly. “But you’re to take me seriously this time. I’m not doing this for fun and neither are you.”

“No need for a reminder,” Malfoy looked positively annoyed. “I remember how distinctly boring you are.”

Harry ignored that. “Is that a deal?”

Malfoy eyed him, his arms folded again in apprehension. He stayed quiet for a moment, his mouth remaining in a tight line.

“Malfoy…” Harry said warningly.

“Fine,” Malfoy cut him off. “I'll be there Thursday at 6.”

***

Harry found himself, regretfully, in the Slytherin common room again. This time, he didn’t feel nervous; this time, he felt annoyed and was not intending on masking it as he approached Malfoy who was sitting in the same spot as last time.

“This time,” Harry began, before Malfoy could say anything. “You’ll listen to me. This time, you won’t just goof off, and not pay attention, or–”

Malfoy scowled. “Just begin, professor,” he sneered coldly.

Harry pursed his lips. “Fine,” he said tightly.

Malfoy just opened up his book and grabbed a quill. Admittedly, he already looked more studious and attentive tonight. 

“We’re going to start with a basic charm,” Harry said. “The Imperturbable Charm was a charm that created an invisible magical barrier around an object, such as a door. Objects would bounce off of the barrier, and it also muffled sounds. The incantation is obice circa.”

Malfoy grudgingly jotted some of that down, not looking up from where he was half-heartedly scribbling.

“Lets try that charm together,” Harry said.

Harry demonstrated it, drawing a barrier around their table. He dropped the charm and then turned to Malfoy. “Your turn,” he said.

“Come on, I know you can do it,” Harry said, trying to sound encouraging.

“Obviously I can’t, Potter,” Malfoy said coldly. 

“Just, for Merlin’s sake, try again!” 

Malfoy whirled on him. “Well, maybe if I had a better tutor, I would be able to.”

Harry must have turned red with anger. “Maybe if you tried to be a better student, you wouldn’t have been failing in the first place.”

It got deafeningly quiet in the room. Malfoy took two steps toward him and, for a moment, Harry feared that he would lunge at him again. He could still feel the fading bruise beneath his left eye.

Malfoy did grab his robes and forcibly push him against the wall. His hands held Harry’s arms in place, which gave the taller one the advantage. 

Harry tensed, ready to have to fight back. He waited for him to punch him, hex him, kick him, knee him—anything at all. He was ready to feel Malfoy’s wrath for all the times

Harry squirmed in place, letting out furious grunts and curses. To top it all off, he couldn’t reach his wand, damn it all to hell. 

Harry defensively put his arms up, hands against Malfoy’s shoulders and his eyes squeezed tightly to brace himself.

Malfoy said, his voice low and strangely hoarse, sounding as though he were being strangled by some invisible force, “Shut up.”

Then Malfoy kissed him, hard. Kissed him.

Harry froze, eyes flying open suddenly. His body went stiff as a board. He could hardly believe it. His head was swimming and all he was aware of was Malfoy’s warm, slightly-chapped lips against his own. 

Why would Malfoy… what in the hell… when… why? Harry’s thoughts were choppy and panicked. His brain has turned into mush and abruptly, he was unable to move. He wanted to pull away and shove Malfoy firmly but he felt his shoes had grown into the floor.

Malfoy pulled away, agonizingly slowly, and repeated in a hushed voice, “Shut up.”

He leaned back, as if scanning Harry’s face for a reaction. His eyes were wide, his pale cheeks suddenly a darker pink. His chest heaved as though he were out of breath.

Harry stared back, eyes still wide as saucers. Their faces were only inches apart still and Draco was still partially holding him to the wall, his fingers digging into Harry’s arms through the robe.

Malfoy’s own face was unreadable. His features gave away nothing, which made the situation even worse. Harry’s stomach twisted 

“I think I should go.” Harry said quickly, suddenly uncomfortable. He was far too aware of Malfoy’s hands still on him.

Malfoy both seemed to push Harry away but also pull him closer, finally deciding to let him go with a disgruntled noise.

He went pinkish and appeared momentarily a tad bit spooked with himself.

“Okay,” Malfoy said harshly, angry and flustered again. He fell back away from Harry, breathing harshly with his white hair in front of his eyes. “Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a moment. A heavy silence had filled the room besides Malfoy’s rough breathing.

Harry, not turning his back on the other as though afraid he would jump him, collected his belongings and rushed out of the Slytherin common room as though Peeves the Poltergeist were chasing him down the corridors. 

Harry’s lips were burning. His skin seemed to be on fire and he couldn't really process that Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, had kissed him. For Merlin’s sake, the same Malfoy that had called him names countless times and found humor in the death of his parents had just kissed him against the wall.

Somehow, Harry managed to get back into his dorm. He closed the door a bit loudly and Ron sat up in bed. His hair was a wreck and his eyes were only half open.

Harry ducked his head. "Sorry to wake you."

" 'Arry? Bloody hell," He faced him and blinked tiredly. "Harry? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry quickly threw his cloak on the floor. "I'm fine," He lied. He crawled into his own bed, his face still warm.

"Where were you?" He asked. 

Harry answered, "Tutoring."

Ron ran his hands through his hair, mussing it even more. He yawned. "Well what happened?" 

He propped himself up on his elbows and stared sleepily.

"Just Malfoy being himself.”

"Malfoy, right! What happened?” Ron repeated.

"Nothing!"

Ron continued to stare at him, but now it was disbelieving; not sleepy. "Yeah, right. It's Malfoy. Something happened."

Harry leaned over and turned out the lantern's flame. "I don't want to talk about it, Ron."

With that, he turned over and eventually fell into a troubled sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! Bookmark for updates! :)


	4. dismissive avoidant

The topic of Malfoy came up the next day during lunch as well. Hermione brought it up first, which surprised Harry. He would have thought Ron would have after their bickering last night. 

"So Harry," Hermione began. "Ron told me you met with Malfoy..."

Harry groaned. He lowered his head so close to his lunch that he nearly had his chin in his mashed potatoes. "Just give it a rest. We just do not get along, nothing new. Nothing else," He said, taking an angry bite of his pot pie. "Can you just let it alone? Please?"

Harry could hear the desperation in his voice and was also reluctant to feel some warmth in his cheeks. He hoped that the two had not noticed.

They fell quiet. 

It gave Harry a chance to sneak a look at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting with his usual Crabbe and Goyle, all laughing obnoxiously at something that was most likely not funny in the slightest. He was acting as though the night prior had not happened at all.

The grin wiped off Malfoy's face when he saw Harry staring in his direction.

Instead, he looked rather abashed and began to eat hastily. Harry turned back to his food as well, not realising that Hermione and Ron had picked up on what happened.

"What was that about?" Ron inquired.

"What?" Harry said distractedly around a mouthful of pot pie. 

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Him," He jerked his chin at the Slytherin table pointedly. "He usually never shuts up or misses a chance to call you out."

Harry shrugged, still observing his food as he ate. "Dunno."

Hermione took a sip of her tea. "You know, he has been acting quite strange today," She said, looking at each other then. "Earlier, he didn't say a single word during breakfast."

Ron stretched. "Well we have Potions next. Maybe he'll be back to his usual arrogant self by then," he concluded.

They made their way to Professor Snape's room after lunch. When the bell rang, Malfoy still wasn't in his seat. It wasn't maybe a minute or two later that he burst through the doors, aghast, and fumbled to his seat.

Snape sniffed disapprovingly. "Late, Mr. Malfoy? I don't tolerate it in my class," He said slowly, turning and frowning. His next sentence sounded reluctant and forced. "Ten points from Slytherin."

Malfoy just sat down, an betrayed look on his face as though he was tempted to say something in return but didn't. Harry watched, half in amazement, as he grudgingly threw his textbook on his desk.

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy mumbled. 

Snape continued his lesson and even when class was about to end, still no snide remark from Draco Malfoy. It was a little unnerving, honestly, seeing him so quiet and contained, but he still appeared disgusted. 

Malfoy looked at him in a way that made Harry feel uncomfortably naked.

The two looked away hastily. Harry began to busy himself with writing his name on parchment over and over.

Harry found it hard to focus in class that day. His mind was elsewhere, still running through the scenario repeatedly in his head. He found himself exceptionally confused on a number of levels.

Harry was relieved that Snape had not noticed this or he would have taken points from Gryffindor as well. Hermione was taking notes profusely and Ron would jot something down lazily every once in a while.

When Harry put down his quill, he touched his finger to his lips. He could not fathom that he had kissed Malfoy. Or, Malfoy had kissed him, he corrected himself quickly.

Maybe he should just leave it alone at least, Harry thought. 

But Harry, persistent as he was, wandered over to Malfoy’s desk by the end of the class (90 minutes of Snape blatantly picking on Neville and cutting off Hermione), trying to act nonchalant. 

He realized that, with Snape forcing him to tutor Malfoy, he would not be able to wriggle out of this situation. And neither could Malfoy.

Ron stared at Harry. “Where are you going?”

Harry ignored this.

“Hello, Malfoy,” Harry said, and watched Malfoy stiffen in his chair.

“What, Potter?” Malfoy retorted. His voice sounded usually high.

He heard Hermione groan in the background. 

Ron piped up, “Hey, Harry, did you know they’re serving chocolate pudding at lunch? We may want to make a grab for it.”

Harry silenced them with a smoldering stare.

Hermione’s hands went up in exasperation. “I’m done meddling in it, Ron,” she murmured. “There’s no point in trying, I’ve realized.”

Harry, ignoring this also, continued to hold Malfoy’s icy stare. 

“I wanted to talk to you… about our prior tutoring session,” Harry said through his teeth. “I believe we have a couple of things to… discuss.”

Jeering, Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest. "Why would I want to talk to you?" He asked, loud enough for half the class to hear. It certainly earned him some wanted attention. 

Harry felt uncomfortable from the eyes that were on him. He could not bring himself to believe that this was the same person that had kissed again yesterday. He almost felt like he dreamt it, and for a fleeting moment, wondered stupidly if he did. However, he remembered the journey back to the Gryffindor common room with a chest tight with anxiety. 

“Surely, you wouldn’t want to discuss this right here and now… unless?” Harry ventured more boldly now.

Malfoy whitened and stepped forward, until he was nose-to-nose with Harry. To his own resentment, Harry felt himself glance down at his lips—briefly, Harry reasoned with himself— then back up at him. “Don’t,” Malfoy spat. “You even dare.”

“Then, we need to talk about your tutoring,” Harry retorted, choosing his words extraordinary carefully. “Now. And I’d like to not put it off.”

Malfoy sneered, delivering a withering look at Harry. “You don’t tell me what to do, Potter,” he said. “I’m afraid that’s not in the cards right now.”

“Well, I have a lot to talk about. Or... share with others,” Harry said knowingly as he raised his voice, feeling only slightly guilty about the very blatant blackmail but people were staring, 

Malfoy was being stubborn, and Harry was tired of turning thoughts over in his head throughout the day. He was beginning to have a headache and, besides that, he has never felt such a level of confused anxiety.

To that, Malfoy drew a shaky, furious breath. “You wouldn’t.”

Harry held his cold stare, hoping he looked more resolute than he felt. He put his hands in his pockets to ensure Malfoy could not see them shaking from the confrontation.

“You wouldn’t,” Malfoy repeated accusingly. “Don’t.”

“Don’t test me, Malfoy,” Harry said. “You’d be surprised by what I’m capable of doing.”

Malfoy still was evidently raging inside. “Doubt that.”

Harry took a shaky breath and turned to Crabbe and Goyle. “Want to hear a little fun fact about your friend over there, mates? Well--”

Malfoy grabbed his arm. Harry yanked it away and almost fell back.

A number of people were staring at them now; Harry was beginning to get used to the way people eyed them suspiciously, almost as though expecting them to break into a fight in the middle of Snape’s classroom.

“Glad we’re finally seeing eye to eye,” Harry said coolly. “So, are you prepared to talk?”

“Just stay away from me, Potter, will you?” Malfoy demanded, his voice now sounding a bit more panicky.

Collecting his things, he stormed out of the class and slammed the door behind him. While Harry's thoughts were swimming, he still heard Ron behind him: "See? That's the Malfoy I've come to know.”


	5. stolen

Regardless of Draco not agreeing to meet with him, Harry went out that night anyway. He found it better to be alone with his thoughts than having Ron ponder what had come over Malfoy in class.

He had told the two that he wanted to talk with Dumbledore and, to his relief, neither of them seemed like they wanted to inquire further on that matter. 

For some reason, he wasn't surprised to find Malfoy sitting near the same spot as the night before. He was slouched in an armchair outside of the Slytherin common room.

He had his neck craned and his arms crossed irritably again. The room was only vaguely lit by candlelight. They made his features look more prominent, his scowl set deep and his eyes slits,

"Thought you didn't want to talk to me, Malfoy," Harry said accusingly, unable to suppress the glow of pride. “What happened to that? Just couldn’t stay away, could ya?”

Malfoy glared at him. "Oh, shut up. Like I said. So fucking full of yourself. Harry Potter, so high and mighty. The stupid Chosen One.”

Harry sat at a reasonable distance from him. 

"You really seemed like you didn't want to talk to me today in class," Harry replied, then added. "And you looked a little unnerved during lunch."

Malfoy began to stammer uncharacteristically, as if trying to garner the strength for a snippy comment. "Didn't expect to look up and see you looking at me at lunch," He muttered bitterly, tossing his wand to the ground. “And no, I did not want to talk to you. Thought that was evident.”

Harry did not know what to say. He decidedly ignored the last part.

Harry could not understand what Malfoy was going on about. Again, his mind was racing and he asked, in genuine confusion, "What's wrong with me looking at you?”

Malfoy's reaction surprised Harry. Instead of being his usual pale self, a bright pink washed high into his cheeks. He coughed slightly, purposely turning his head and trying to twist his mouth into a scowl.

“I didn’t like it,” Malfoy retorted, and even Harry noticed how lame the response was. “After everything that happened, I’m just uncomfortable.”

It got quiet again. Harry was unsure of what to say and was half-expecting him to go on.

After a while of sitting in silence, Harry grew fed up. “Fine, I’ll just leave,” he said. He threw his arms up in exasperation.

“Wait,” Malfoy snapped. “Stay right there, Potter.”

Harry stopped, shifting on his feet. “I’ll only stay if you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

Harry paused. Malfoy—did he like Harry? That had to be the only explanation for all this strange behavior. But, there was just no way, Harry convinced himself. 

“I think you truly wanted that. I could tell. You’d been wanting it for a while,” Harry said, his chest suddenly swelling with confidence. His heart began to beat quickly. “Why else would you have done that? Give me a reason.”

Malfoy looked infuriated. He gave Harry a dark look, now looking extremely threatening.

Harry almost went for his wand on instinct but decided to push through on this. He was tired of being pitifully confused and disoriented.

Malfoy just replied flatly, "That’s repulsive. Disgusting, honestly.”

Harry moved forward so their knees brushed slightly. "If it's so disgusting then I guess it would bother you if I did this," Harry said, finding himself placing his hand on Draco's arm. 

He didn’t know why he was entertaining this but he could feel his own heart racing.

To his surprise, he could easily feel Malfoy’s pulse under his fingers. Harry looked down, feeling rather stupid at the way he was just holding Malfoy’s forearm.

Malfoy looked tense as his eyes flicked down and back up, staring at Harry’s hand as though it were a foreign object. "Don't touch me, Potter." 

It didn't sound convincing whatsoever but his voice was still cold and sharp.

When Harry did not move, Malfoy yanked his hand away. “What are you doing? Stop touching me! I have no problem decking you again,” he threatened. “In fact, I’d quite enjoy it.”

Harry just moved forward, putting his other hand on the other side of his shoulders. He never noticed how Draco was all lines, sharp and angular. 

“I’m warning you!” Malfoy snarled, and pulled out his wand. Harry, for some reason, did not feel too worried.

“You won’t hurt me, Malfoy,” Harry said, surprised at the confidence in his voice. “Just like you won’t just move your arm away.”

Malfoy gaped, red with fury. “Potter, I swear—I will ruin your life even more so than I ever have. I will make your life a living hell. I’ll—”

“Oh, will you?” Harry asked.

“Yeah!” Malfoy said defiantly. “You should know by now not to test me.”

Harry felt weirdly unconcerned. 

Harry almost felt as though all of his movements were sluggish. It seemed as though he were watching from the outside as he slid closer to Malfoy, leaning over him in the armchair.

Malfoy now looked thoroughly alarmed. “Potter!”

Harry simply said, "Shut up, Malfoy."

Malfoy was livid now, wand still in hand. "Don't you dare tell me to—"

Harry kissed him. He didn’t know why he did it. He had never exactly considered it, but it was quite nice. He had soft lips at least, Harry noted to himself, though a bit dry. Tasted like coffee. He smelled like woodfire.

Harry could feel Malfoy unmoving against him. For a second, Harry thought himself absolutely idiotic for thinking this was the only way to handle the problem.

Harry then pulled away and cleared his throat. He could not bring himself to meet his stare.

“So—so, yeah!” Harry said feebly. “Just shut up about all the nonsense, and just talk to me about what is going on. I want answers.”

Malfoy looked absolutely stunned. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how he dumbfounded he looked when he was kissed. Then, Harry felt dumbfounded himself because he had just purposely, on his own will, kissed Draco Malfoy. 

Harry licked his lips self-consciously. “Well,” he repeated. “Are you going to tell me now? Are you going to tell me why you kissed me? Tell me how much you hate me? Tell me how much you hate kissing me? Why you—”

Malfoy dropped his wand.

Harry blinked. “What now?”

Malfoy took the opportunity to kiss him again, this time grabbing a fistful of his untidy hair. This kiss was not nearly as tentative. 

Harry gasped into his mouth, not expecting this at all. And Malfoy took the opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth. The warm sensation was new and different, and Malfoy continued to pull on his hair with one hand and stroke the   
back of his neck mindlessly with the other.

Harry’s head would explode at any moment, he decided, and his heart was beating so hard that he was positive Malfoy could hear it. His whole body was stiff with shock.

His stomach swooped as he kissed back. This kiss was urgent, and rather needy. Malfoy moved in closer, and was breathing harshly through the hasty kisses.

When Malfoy did finally pull away, he managed to immediately slant his eyes away and clear his throat awkwardly. 

Harry noticed, which brought great heat to his face, Malfoy adjusted the front of his robes. He tried to pay no attention to that but continued to redden at the thought.

“Er,” Harry started, then realized he did not have much to supply that with. His face felt hot and instead of feeling more understanding of the situation, he now only felt more confused than ever before.

Malfoy, finally, smirked. “Enjoy that, did you?” He asked, sounding very proud of himself. It was the last thing he expected him to say. “Thought you would.”

“I can see you did too,” Harry found himself saying, nodding down at the front of Malfoy’s robes.

That wiped the smirk off Malfoy’s face and replaced it with a look of sheer embarrassment. Harry had never seen it on his face and, for all the problems he had given Harry and his friends throughout the years, chose to relish it.

“Right,” Malfoy said hastily. “Well, I suppose that cleared up nothing.”

“Correct,” Harry said dryly. “Thanks for that.”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “Anytime,” he said and said nothing else.

For a minute, they were back to the uncomfortable silence and suddenly Harry wished he had left during the first long pause.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said very honestly. He tried to survey Malfoy’s face carefully, but his mouth remained set and firm as he gave away nothing. “You hate me.”

“Yes. You hate me also. This is nothing new.”

The two sat silently yet again.

“I find this conversation to be highly unhelpful,” Harry said.

“I was not the one who wanted to discuss it,” Malfoy reminded him.

But now, Harry could not think of what to ask.

“It seemed you had ideas other than talking,” Malfoy said.

“Yeah, thanks for the inspiration on that,” Harry chided.

Malfoy now glared, the anger returning to his eyes. “Potter, I don’t need this right now.”

“As if I do?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Right,” Malfoy said dryly. “Your schedule must be entirely packed with meetings with the press and Quidditch tournament interviews. So sorry to disrupt that.”

“It’s not like that!” Harry protested. “And you know it, do not make a fool of me.”

“You’re quite good at that on your own,” snarled Malfoy.

“God, you—you are— infuriating!” Harry retorted. 

“My job,” Malfoy said, “is done then.”

He picked up his wand and pocketed it.

Harry cursed. 

Malfoy drew himself up suddenly, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere but there. “Well, hell, Potter,” he said coldly. “At this point, I think we ought to just drop this and pretend as though it never happened.”

Harry silently wanted that.

“So, that’s it?” Harry asked. “We just proceed with lessons as usual and I don’t get my answers?”

“I believe too many—how you say—cans of worms have opened at this point and now I am choosing to close those cans,” Malfoy sniffed pointedly.

“At least,” Harry said angrily. “Tell me why you did it in the first place.”

“If I knew, I would tell you!”

“Well, I hardly think you were possessed by another being,” Harry said coolly. “Use that brain now, no matter how difficult that is for you.”

Malfoy snarled. “It just—felt—like—it felt like the appropriate thing to do.”

“Kiss me?”

“I’m trying to explain Potter, is that not what you wanted?”

Harry said hurriedly, “Yes, of course.”

“I felt angry and I felt a lot of things—“

“Like what?”

“Will you let me speak?” Malfoy retorted.

Harry made a point to snap his mouth shut, pursing his lips tightly. 

“I just wanted to shut you up and a punch did not seem fitting at that time, so I just did what I felt was right—which now I realize was not right,” Malfoy added the last bit, almost as an afterthought. “Right now a punch seems more accurate—“

Harry nodded slowly, still not speaking. He still did not understand but did not want to interject again.

“That, or a good stunning spell—“

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Merlin, Potter, you can speak again.”

Harry drew in a breath. He had not realized that all that time he had been holding it. “Oh.”

“So,” Malfoy drawled, now sneering again. “Why did you kiss me just now?”

Thinking about this for a great amount of time, Harry was silent again. Why had he chosen to go about it that way? 

“I—I just thought that was best because I was copying you,” he said, knowing full well how absurd he sounded.

Malfoy’s smirk widened. “Oh,” he said, “that just makes loads of sense.”

Harry felt indignant. “As if your explanation did? I think that you are just—“

“I’m done talking about this,” Malfoy silenced him. “I elect we just act as though it never happened.”

“Fine,” Harry said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! :) Hope you enjoyed


	6. a little perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and bookmark!

Their tutoring lessons went on, however, now they were considerably more uncomfortable. Harry made sure to keep his distance, sitting nearly three feet away from Malfoy at all times.

Their hands touched once, briefly, when flipping through their textbook and they practically leapt away from one another. Harry looked at him angrily and slipped both of his hands into his pockets. 

“Did I do this right?” Malfoy’s question broke into his thoughts. 

“Hmm—oh!” Harry leaned over his shoulder to check his equations.

Malfoy shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable and weirdly nervous. He seemed to be wincing.

“You sick?” Harry asked. “You look a bit feverish.”

“I’m fine,” Malfoy snapped. “Move away from me.”

“I’m trying to check your homework, Malfoy,” Harry said back with equal annoyance, but he could still feel Malfoy’s eyes on him. “You did just ask me, after all.”

Harry was having a hard time focusing— yes, trolls are in fact— yes, unicorns are best known for— no, werewolves do not—they do not—and then Harry looked over.

Malfoy was looking at him, but immediately turned to look back at the paper. He cleared his throat and half-heartedly nodded along with Harry.

 _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin_ , Harry thought in a panic. 

They both grew quiet. Harry shuffled a bit closer to try to get a better view and, as a result, Malfoy tensed immeasurably. 

“Move, Potter,” Malfoy said coldly again, but his voice sounded a bit creaky as though he were recovering but a particularly bad cold. “Your—shadow, hard to see my paper.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled after a moment, and stepped away. “Looks good—you— your work. It looks good and correct.”

What? Harry kicked himself. He groaned inwardly. 

He hated how he was acting; it was sheerly embarrassing. Harry reasoned with himself, trying to tell himself that it was just a kiss and nothing to get worked up over. They had both agreed

Malfoy smirked, never failing to pick at Harry’s blunders. “Oh, fantastic English, Potter,” he sneered. “So good to have a proper tutor.”

Harry clenched his teeth to avoid spitting back another foul comment.

“I’m teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts, not grammar,” he quipped. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Temper, temper,” Malfoy said lazily. “Just a simple observation.”

“Well, observe your textbook,” Harry stammered.

Malfoy just smirked. “Is that a direct order, _professor_?”

“Yes,” Harry snarled.

Malfoy almost looked amused, eyeing Harry as though he were a challenge. Harry did not like the look in his eyes.

He looked at him for just a moment and knew, Merlin, he could not make a move on him. Even just saying it to himself felt awkward and unnatural. But, he did sort of want to, especially before their tutoring sessions when it was just unpacking and quiet tension of who would speak first.

Crabbe and Goyle ogled them. “What are ya doin, Draco?”

Malfoy waved a hand lazily. “Project. Figures, I get paired up with this useless one here,” he jabbed a finger in Harry’s direction. 

Harry felt very offended that Malfoy was lying.

“Of course, I have to do all the work,” Malfoy continued. “He’s too busy daydreaming about the Weasley girl to even try to focus.”

“That’s not true,” Harry said indignantly, only to be ignored.

Malfoy and his friends laughed wildly. Crabbe and Goyle banged their fists obnoxiously on the table while Harry delivered a scathing stare to Malfoy. 

After their session, Harry dragged his feet tiredly back to the Gryffindor common room, feeling entirely drained.

It was well past 9 o’clock.

It was mostly empty except for a few first-years and Hermione, who was sitting at a table with a book.

“Ron go to bed?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said without looking up. “He said he was tired out from Quidditch.”

Harry hummed.

Harry wished that he had somebody he could confide in but nobody would listen to him about Malfoy. It was then that he looked up and saw Hermione flipping through the pages of her book.

“Hermione,” he said hesitantly. “May I ask you a… romance-related question?”

She eyed him suspiciously and, after a moment, folded her book and put it aside. Her eyes were now glowing with delight.

“Okay…” she said slowly. “What is it?”

“Well, me and this girl… we kissed. We have a lot of chemistry, but we have never really gotten along very well before. But she said she wants to act as though it didn’t happen, and we are supposed to drop it. But— there’s this weird tension now.”

Harry babbled on, speaking hurriedly as if the faster he spoke, the faster this would be cleared up. After he finished, he swallowed thickly as realized how dry his mouth had become.

“I think, maybe, you two need distance—”

“We, kinda, can’t,” Harry said.

“We are… in a class together. Partners.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, thinking hard. “Then, try to carry on with ordinary conversation. But, if you like her and she likes you—you did say she kissed you first, right? Thought so. In that case, maybe make a move if you both are comfortable.”

Harry blinked. Make a move on Draco Malfoy?

The thought made him feel squirmy inside, not a bad squirmy, but a nervous squirmy. A sensation he had not felt prior to this.

Hermione began to grin. “Do you really like this girl, then?”

Harry stiffened. Then, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what!”

“All-knowing Hermione Granger.”

“Well, I do know girls, considering I am one.” 

Harry’s heart sank. He cleared his throat. “Erm, what do you think she ought to do?”

“Not that Ron seems to notice that I’m a girl but—wait, what did you say?” 

“Nevermind,” he said quickly. “You really think I should do it?”

“Why not?” she shrugged. She was still looking at him questioningly. Her eyes were glowing with excitement. “Oh, come on! Just give it a try.”

Harry mulled over this. Did he like Malfoy? Or did he just like the feeling?

Ron shuffled in, looking disheveled and exhausted. His hair was spiked up and his eyes looked red and tired. 

“There you two are,” Ron said, letting out a loud yawn. He stretched.

“Thought you went to bed,” Harry said. “You’ve got an early class, don’t you?”

Ron sat beside Harry. “Yeah, just couldn’t sleep. Was waiting on you,” he said, rubbing his eyes and looking at them blearily. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, right as Hermione informed Ron that—

“Harry’s got a _crush_ ,” she said, in a squealing voice. 

Ron blinked with interest. “Oh?” he asked, straightening up with sudden curiosity. “Who is it? Where did you meet? Do I know her? Is she fit? I bet—“

“ _Ron_ ,” Hermione silenced him in a reprimanding voice. “I think Harry would like that part to be private. But, he wants some advice,”

“She likes you, you think you like her, you’ve kissed, but you don’t want to get together, but there is chemistry, and you’re curious about what could come of it?” Ron echoed after Harry recited the story to him, Hermione still looking at them wide-eyed.

Harry nodded. Only then did he realize just how ridiculous he sounded. He rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Mate,” Ron said slowly, after a long pause of thinking, “I just don’t understand romance and it’s time we admit to ourselves we are in the same boat.”

Harry gave a short, disgruntled laugh. 

Hermione just scowled at Ron.

Harry watched the two and gave Hermione a sympathetic look.

“I agree,” Harry just said. “I guess I’ll see how I feel when the time comes.”


	7. "studying"

Harry was pacing in the Slytherin common room. His head was hurting so bad he thought it might explode. He was used to this with his scar, but feeling so stressed over a person that his head was pounding relentlessly, that was foreign to him.

He could not stop reciting in his mind what Hermione had said to him about Malfoy—or, who she thought was a girl he fancied from a class.

“Make a move, make a move,” Harry began to pace again, before asking aloud, “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” 

He told himself that he did not like Malfoy. He couldn’t; but hell, Harry would be lying if he said that he couldn’t stop thinking about their urgent, needy kisses. The way Malfoy touched him just above his—

“How the hell are you supposed to do what, Potter?” Malfoy drawled, and Harry jumped. He had not heard him enter. 

“Oh, hello. I didn’t hear you come in,” Harry said, realizing how obvious that was.

Malfoy’s eyebrows drew together. “You’re jumpy,” he said. “Why is that?”

“I just didn’t hear you come in,” Harry said again quickly, trying to ignore his off-putting nerves. “I was just thinking about…. homework.”

Harry closed his eyes, realizing just how absurd he sounded at that moment. He was stuttering and repeating half of his sentences to Malfoy, who was furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

“How the hell are you supposed to do what?” Malfoy asked again. “I don’t feel like we are making a lot of progress on a proper conversation right now.”

Harry looked at him crossly. “Finish my own homework tonight,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to finish my own homework tonight if I have this tutoring session.”

Malfoy was still eyeing him curiously. “Well lucky you,” he said at last, throwing down his books. “I’d like to make this a quick one tonight, quite honestly. I’ve had such a day and I’m over it.”

“Oh…” Harry said lamely. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Immediately, Harry knew it was the wrong thing to say when Malfoy sneered, “No, Potter, I’m not here to have a lively little chat with you about my day,” he said harshly. “I’d rather just do what I’ve paid you to do.”

Harry scowled then, nerves vanishing suddenly and wondering how he thought that he could have possibly had a thing for Malfoy.

After all, this was Malfoy. This was Malfoy, who had punched him, called Hermione’s slurs, and had made malicious comments about his parents. Stupid, mindless kisses between them had meant nothing and it was done with.

“Just was offering,” Harry said coldly.

“As much as I appreciate that, I think it would be best if we stayed out of each other’s personal lives and just focus on what we are here for,” Malfoy said, giving him a scathing look. 

“Forget I asked then,” Harry snapped.

Malfoy had settled himself in now. He was looking cozied up in the chair, his wand in hand, and he looked very impatient. “Well?”

Harry dropped down in the chair, pulled his wand out of his robe and went on to take the textbook. “Alright, let’s begin…”

It was about midway through the lesson. Harry had just finished explaining to Malfoy a powerful counter jinx for—for something—Harry was not thinking straight because Malfoy was biting the end of his quill.

Harry realized that he had stopped talking. He had his book open but suddenly the words on the pages looked rather jumbled together. He blinked. 

Malfoy glanced at him. “I’m still listening, just taking notes,” he said. “Go on.”

“Right,” Harry said hurriedly. “Um…”

Malfoy tilted his head to look at him quizzically and, in that process, a piece of his hair that remained ungelled fell forward. “What’s the problem, professor?”

Harry, mindlessly, leaned forward and pushed away the piece of Malfoy’s hair. Harry realized how stupid he looked almost immediately after he had done it. Of all the ridiculous things he had done, this was at the top of the list—and now, to top it off, his cheeks were burning.

Malfoy froze and Harry pulled his hand back as if he had been burned badly. Malfoy’s face was pressed together in confusion, his eyebrows drawn together, his mouth in a quizzical frown and his nose scrunched.

“Sorry,” Harry murmured. “It, er, was bothering me. We can continue.”

Harry flipped to the next page. “Like I was saying, there are no cures for a werewolf bite. Not yet, anyway, I understand they’re still doing a lot of research for… Malfoy?”

Harry noticed Malfoy was still staring, rather wide-eyed at him. He stopped talking and glanced at him, trying to seem impatient when he really felt stupid and nervous. “Did you hear what I just said? I said there’s no cure for a werewolf bite.”

“I heard you,” Malfoy said flatly.

Harry licked his lips self-consciously. 

Malfoy’s eyes were unreadable as he met Harry’s stare challengingly and, as a result, Harry wrung his hands.

“So,” Harry said slowly. “Back to the lesson?”

Malfoy exhaled shakily. Then, in a soft voice, as his hand trailed to the top of Harry’s pants, he said, “As if.”

Harry had no idea what was happening but it was all in a rush. 

Malfoy suddenly had his hand on his belt buckle, undoing it swiftly while holding eye contact with Harry. Harry, who at first stood there stiffly with his mouth parted, could only begin to help him get the rest of his trousers off.

Harry only then realized that his hands were shaking. He could barely feel as though he could get a breath in but at the same time, he was becoming very aware of his breath coming in quick pants.

Harry went silent, stiffening, when he felt Malfoy's mouth on his cock.

He slid his fingers into his hair, giving a tug a bit harder than he intended. Instead of flinching away, though, Malfoy let out a soft moan around him—almost as if he liked that. So Harry did it again.

And, he was right. Malfoy liked that quite a bit. He let out another approving sound before he continued to move his head agonizingly slowly.

Finally, he popped off and backed himself against the door. “Let's waste no time, Potter.”

Harry blinked, dazed. “What?”

“Let me get you ready,” Malfoy mumbled and, for the first time since they had begun, they made eye contact and it felt raw. It was the most gentle Malfoy had sounded yet. “If that’s okay?”

Harry just silently nodded. He felt too overwhelmed to speak.

Malfoy grabbed his wrists and pinned them over his head. For a minute they just stared, mouth parted slightly, at the other, as Malfoy worked Harry open. His pace, Harry noticed, was careful but needy.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, Malfoy whispered to Harry, in a voice that was less gentle now, “You want to touch yourself?”

Harry began to nod.

Malfoy hummed. “Unfortunate, really.”

With that, he lifted Harry’s legs and laid him back against the desk, which was still littered with their books and parchment and ink.

Harry was biting his lip to hold back his moans. “Hurry, please.”

“Shut up,” he muttered. “You want the entire school to hear you moaning?”

Harry went pink and he tried to cover his face with his hands.

“You don’t, do you?” Malfoy pressed against Harry’s entrance, which had been worked open skillfully. “You don’t want all Hogwarts to know you’re a whore, right?”

Harry gasped when he felt Malfoy against him, trying helplessly to push back against him. “No.”

Malfoy shifted, pressing just the head against his entrance without pushing inside. The sensation made Harry squirm, he felt Malfoy effectively hold him still with two hands on either side of his waist. “But you are, right?”

Harry lowered his hands a bit. “I am what?”

“A whore.”

Harry reddened even more, if that were possible. “I’m not,” he said, but his hips continued to try to push back onto the length. He was stopped, however, by Malfoy’s hands.

“You’re not?” Malfoy asked, pulling his hips back. “I guess I won’t fuck you, then.”

Harry let out a quiet noise that sounded like a cross between a gasp and a cry. “No!” he pleaded, trying and failing to not sound miserably needy. “Just come on and do it, Malfoy, please. You know I’m a whore now, okay? So just do it.”

Malfoy was evidently pleased. “I know,” he said, and pushed inside of him in a single methodical thrust. 

“Oh!” Harry practically gasped. “Merlin!”

Malfoy covered his mouth, silencing Harry effectively. Harry did not bother to fight this.

“Merlin, you love this. You told you didn’t like cock or me, but suddenly it seems like you like both,” Malfoy said as began to build a constant pace. Each thrust forced Harry back against the desk. “Right?”

“Yes,” Harry whispered. His voice came out muffled from the hand over his mouth. His eyes nearly rolled back when Malfoy gave another forceful thrust. “I want it all the time. I keep thinking about you fucking me and I can’t stop.”

Malfoy’s own breathing had picked up by then but he just smirked. “I could tell by the way you look at me.”

Harry felt a small surge of irritation. “Shut up,” he snapped, and was quieted with a particular rough thrust.

Malfoy continued at that constant speed, slowly going faster as Harry began to let out small little grunts around his hand. Harry attempted to mutter, his head growing fuzzy with the feeling of being filled with… with Malfoy.

“What?” Malfoy asked.

“Harder,” Harry found himself saying. “Just… harder.”

Harry felt Malfoy gasp against his neck, running his hands down the front of his chest as he pushed into him again with more rigor.

Malfoy covered his mouth again, more forcefully this time. It drowned out a lot of his noises but it did not stop his small grunts each time Malfoy re-entered him.

Harry gasped and squirmed. Harry was then full, so agonizingly, wonderfully full, something Harry had never felt before—then Harry came first and Malfoy next. 

Then, it was over.

Malfoy laid on top of Harry, lazily kissing him. 

Harry was blissfully aching. His heart was pounding unceasingly. 

His thoughts were buzzing as Malfoy began to nibble at his neck, occasionally lapping at the soft skin with this tongue. 

Harry could not imagine, he thought as he tilted his head up, how ridiculous he must look with Malfoy kissing at his neck. He closed his eyes, chest heaving still.

“Well,” Harry whispered.

“Well what?” Malfoy prompted, breathless. 

“That was—wow.”

Malfoy smirked. “I’m good, aren’t I? I just knew that I’d be able to make you scream and—“

Harry then rolled his eyes. “Shut up now, before you ruin it.”

It was back to snarky comments and dull remarks about the homework. A bizarre feeling had settled over the room.

They were soon sitting with the textbooks in front of them as they finished out the lesson. Their hair was in disarray, the room smelled of sex, and their scarves nearly got swapped. It was Harry who quickly had to grab his Gryffindor scarf before Malfoy had.

At last, the room went quiet. The awkward feeling remained and Harry felt as though he was unsure of what to say. 

“I’d better get to bed,” Malfoy exhaled at last, his hair an utter wreck. All of the gel was gone from it. “I have quite the headache from studying.”

Harry didn’t look at him but continued to scribble, shakily. “We only did that about half the time.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, came up behind him and grabbed his hair. He pulled on it. “So very funny and observant of you, Potter. Smart Potter always has his quipps, hmm?”

Malfoy turned so he was in front of him then. Harry watched as his eyes trailed over him, suddenly feeling awkward and uncomfortable despite having just been ravished by the Slytherin. He had never seen the other look at him with such unmasked curiosity and thought.

“What?” Harry managed. He felt affronted.

“Mm,” Malfoy shrugged and drew a finger over Harry’s lower lip. “I’m just looking at you, Potter. Against the rules?

Harry didn’t say anything, just felt warm in the face.

“I better go,” Malfoy said again, bluntly. “I’m tired.”

Harry nodded absently and, when Malfoy didn’t walk away, only then did he realize that the other was waiting on a final kiss goodbye.

Harry reddened and allowed himself to be kissed.

Harry laid on his back in the bed that night. He stared at the ceiling. Ron was talking in the bed over from him, but Harry was only absentmindedly listening and nodding every once in a while. 

His lips felt tingly. He could hardly believe he was thinking about Malfoy of all people.

Harry reddened at the very thought.


	8. potions class

Harry sat down in Snape’s class the next day, the presence of Malfoy behind him almost mocking. The two had parted the day before acting as though not much had happened, other than some absent-minded flirting that Harry wrote off as Malfoy attempting to diffuse the tension; that, or a few well-timed insults. 

It almost took Harry all of yesterday to comprehend that, yes, that had actually happened. When Harry returned to his dorm, he had to blow out the candle beside his bed to hide from Ron his glowing-red face. 

Snape tapped the desk with his wand sharply. "Potter," He said. "Ten points from Gryffindor for daydreaming in my class."

"Sorry, sir," He said quickly.

He turned back to his work. "Now. As I was saying, get into pairs and we will begin creating amortentia, one of the strongest love potions. Even one sip will affect someone strongly," He said, pausing in the front of the room. "Into pairs. Go."

Harry looked up to find that Ron and Hermione had already scooted close together. Annoyed, he thought he would go to Neville but he saw that he was crouched together with Luna. He turned around.

Crabbe and Goyle had paired. It left him alone with Malfoy. Not that, at this point, he minded but it would be weird for all others if they saw the two acting kind to one another.  
Malfoy, scowling, slouched toward Harry and sat down in the seat beside him without a word. He propped his head on his fist. 

“Hello, Potter,” he drawled.

Snape grinned devilishly. "Good. Now, can anyone tell me the effect of amortentia?"

Hermione's hand went up. "Please, sir."

He gave a slight nod, grin vanishing.

She looked quite proud of herself. "It creates the emotion of love. It’s not real love, but it feels that way in the moment."

At those words, Harry felt eyes on him and noticed Draco staring at him. The blonde shook himself a bit and muttered a quiet, “Show-off.”

Facing forward again, Harry raised his eyebrows and felt his cheeks grow warm. It was strange to hear the word love with Malfoy boring holes into him with his eyes. Harry could not read his expression, besides the sneer that was plastered on his mouth.

Harry realized with some mild amusement that Malfoy’s arrogance and cockiness would refuse to ever budge and that alone made Harry want to curse him.

Malfoy looked down grudgingly. Harry had the feeling he was pink as well.

Snape clapped. "Get to work."

Malfoy was purposefully silent. 

They picked up the ingredients and opened the textbook. They began to follow the instructions, carefully placing the items into the vial. After a while, a few puffs of pink rose from the containers periodically.

They leaned back as they let it set.

“You did something right for once, Potter,” Malfoy said, in a familiarly cold voice. “Didn’t know that was possible.”

Harry heard Crabbe and Goyle snicker, reaching across the table to high-five Malfoy.

Snape raised his eyebrows but did not reprimand them.

Malfoy made eye contact with Harry, almost challenging him and suddenly he didn’t know how to feel. Not in a bad way, just merely in a way that left him at loss for words.

“What is it, cat got your tongue?” Malfoy snickered.

“I thought you did.”

Malfoy went red.

“What’d he say?” Crabbe leaned in, almost knocking over the potion.

“Nothing—nothing clever, which is also pretty typical,” Malfoy remarked defensively, but Harry did not miss his slight stutter. “Potter _never_ says anything clever, you should know that, Crabbe.”

“Enough blubbering,” Snape snapped. “Crabbe, Goyle. Back to work.”

Harry was sitting there with his head on his closed fist, unable to not smirk over at Malfoy. It was his turn to be coy. “What, you didn’t appreciate that?”

“You’re a risky little shit, Potter,” the blonde murmured, giving Harry a dark look. “Suppose it’s why I like you—only a bit.”

“Only a bit? That seems like an understatement from what I’ve noticed going on in your pants.”

“You’re too cocky. Someone needs to take you down a notch,” he snarked. “I can easily learn to hate you again, believe you me.”

Harry shrugged, watching Malfoy turn an even brighter pink—almost as pink as the potion—at his passiveness. “Okay.”

Malfoy stammered for a bit, hands turning into fists. He looked like he was going to snap. But instead, all he managed was, "Are we meeting tonight? For—tutoring?”

Harry withheld a laugh. He instead acted as though he was interested in the potion again. "Suppose. Same place?"

"I guess. Don’t know."

Harry thought. "Anywhere else we could go?”

They thought for what felt like a while. He thought over all the places on the Marauder's Map—and then finally, a place not on a map.

Sitting up straighter, Harry leaned into Malfoy without getting too close, mind you. He had to lean away quickly though because suddenly Draco’s cologne seemed very, very strong.

“The Room of Requirement!” Harry mused. “Nobody else will be able to get in. We can just say that we need a place to meet," He supplied quietly.

Malfoy nodded curtly. "I think that should work," He said, seeming to be acting much more amiable than usual. He seemed much more cheerful now, almost grinning. “This way we will be alone.”  
It wasn't just him looking more cheerful. Maybe it was the influence of just being around the potion, but the class seemed far more mellow and the pairs appeared to be sitting closer. A pink haze seemed to have set over the room.

Even Snape’s mouth was a flat line opposed to a tight frown.

"Y'know," Malfoy commented, leaning forward to inhale, "this stuff smells funny. I wonder what it tastes like."

He lifted up the vial and took a slow, suspicious sip. 

Harry jumped, grabbing the container from Malfoy and looking to see if Snape had seen. He was busy reprimanding Neville for turning his green.

"Malfoy," Harry said through his teeth. "You great ass! Why did you do that?"

He looked offended. "Didn't think it would affect me, Potter. I like to think I’m stronger than a little love potion,” he said. “Don’t insult me.”

“But, the effects—“

“It’s having no effect on me,” Malfoy said coolly. “Is it?”

"Well. No."

“Exactly,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you just underestimate me. You may not be able to handle something like this, but we all know I’m quite capable.”

“That was still ruddy stupid!” Harry reprimanded. “What if Snape saw you? He would have your ass.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Snape loves me. And, again, I’m _fine_.”

Well. Five minutes later, it was affecting him.

It wasn't much at first, but then Malfoy was definitely acting rather strange. Really, really strange. He was behaving in a rather loopy manner. His features softened and he looked rather content. He hummed amicably, seeming almost unaware that he was still in a classroom.

Harry watched as Draco dropped his head onto the desk and gave a short, bizzare laugh. "Hey, Potter," He tried to speak but only got out another short laugh. "You have such pretty eyes. Green."

Harry tried to look intent on the potion. "You are being kinda loud, you know?"

Malfoy frowned. "What, is it supposed to be a secret that your eyes are green?"

"No, but—”

He laughed, standing up. "Potter has green eyes!" he shouted, until Harry pulled him back forcibly down into his seat. “Did everyone know he has green eyes? Show of hands?”

Snape just looked over and frowned but continued to grudgingly tell Hermione that hers came perfect. Ron looked quite pleased as well, sitting up very tall in his seat.

Only a few others glanced in their direction quizzically but seemed to just go back to their potions when Malfoy returned to his chair by force.

Malfoy now smirked. His hand on Harry's leg and looked at him oddly.

"Potter..." he said, his voice just above a whisper. His eyes had a glazed, distant shine about them. “You are just so nice to look at.”

Harry was now sure he was red. He began to stutter from the heat of Draco's hand just next to his thigh. "Malfoy, stop. You're going to regret doing this.”

Harry tried to pry his hand away, but suddenly found it very difficult. His mind was foggy and befuddled. 

Malfoy gave an uncharacteristic whine—Harry almost did not recognize the sound as it came from him—and leaned close. "But I want to kiss you."

"Oh _Merlin_. Draco, please—”

“Draco, please? I like the sound of that.”

Harry was dumbfounded, absolutely embarrassed and finding his hands shaky. He tried to busy himself by re-reading over the potion instructions—even though they were already done. “Stop that.”

"I want to kiss you, Potter."

He clapped a hand over the other’s mouth and looked around to make sure nobody had heard that. 

“Shut up! Would you just shut up? It’s your own fault that you’re acting like a damn fool,” Harry snapped. 

Malfoy’s eyes, momentarily, lost that sense of dreaminess and instead hardened. It was gone almost instantly, though, when he said smoothly, “I just say and get what I want, and you don’t like that about me.”

“Quiet— _now_!”

Nobody was looking up, thankfully.

At least not until Draco leaned forward, attempting to push himself onto Harry. Harry, trying to push him back, was unsuccessful. Grabbing onto him to keep his balance, it caused them both to fall out of their chairs.

Then everyone was looking. 

Harry was lying on the floor with Malfoy awkwardly on top of him. Draco was staring wide-eyed. The fall seemed to snap him back to reality, causing him to appear highly horrified.  
Harry sat up, rolling off of him hastily. 

Malfoy’s mouth turned into a scowl and he began to dust off his robes. He made a point to look disgusted.

“Malfoy,” Snape remarked. “I trust you not to… fool around when it comes to such serious matters. You and Potter can deal with your arguments outside of my classroom.”  


“Yes, sir,” Malfoy replied shortly. 

He sat down and looked away. The class didn't talk much after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and bookmark! Make me smile :)


	9. still get jealous

Harry had known that his friends would not let the Malfoy matters go. Hell, he wished he himself could let the Draco matters go. 

But alas, he was stuck thinking about the agonizingly irritating blonde for all hours of the day—especially when they had classes together—especially, he thought with a blush, late at night in his dormitory.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head a bit. He refocused his eyes on his textbook for Transfiguration; the words, however, seemed fuzzy on the page.

"Hey," Ron piped up. "I know you don't want me to bring it up again—” 

Harry knew where this was going. He ground his teeth together, prepared for the name that was evidently floating to Ron's lips.

"—But I was wondering if you knew something about... Malfoy?" Ron asked, trying to sound casual but evidently worried he might set Harry off. "I mean, he has been acting a bit odd. Didn’t you notice?”

Harry pretended to not care, sticking his nose deeper into his textbook. "How do you mean?" he asked innocently.

Ron raised a brow. "Well, for starters he didn't even complain that he had to be your partner during Potions. And then that episode!" He added, as if remembering. "What was that about!”

Harry slammed his book shut. "He drank a bit of the love potion."

"What?"

Harry huffed. "Just a bit. It'll be worn off by tomorrow. It was only a sip."

Ron started to grin. "Wait, wait... So Malfoy was coming onto you?"

Harry was irritated. "I mean, he was under the influence of the potion.”

Ron laughed. "Wait until I tell Hermione! Of all people, Draco Malfoy, tried to snog you," He said, laughing so hard that he leaned over the chair. He pounded his fist on the table. "Who heard of a thing?"

Harry didn't laugh. "Okay, Ron. We get it."

Sitting up, Ron wiped his eyes but, upon seeing Harry’s face, began to look more serious. 

"Something wrong?” Ron asked. “I thought it was funny is all.”

Harry felt a bit guilty. "Sorry. A lot on my mind right now is all."

“Have I done something?”

Harry felt even worse. “No, no! Not all all, mate. Just stressed.”

Ron relaxed, leaning back into the chair. "I got you, mate. No worries," He said, and offered an encouraging smile.

Harry returned it half-heartedly. "I'm going to get a snack before lights-out," He fabricated. Malfoy and he were not meeting at their normal time and, frankly, he did not want Ron nagging him further on the topic of Malfoy. "Want anything from the dining hall?"

Ron crawled from his chair into bed. He stretched in his too-small pajamas and leaned back. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, mate."

Harry stood up and headed out, holding his breath as he wandered down the hall. It was late but not late enough for Filch to get on him for being out of bed. 

On top of that, the Room of Requirement fell through. Apparently, the room did not find shagging a proper reason to be allowed in, much to Harry’s let-down.

So, back to the Slytherin common room he went. Harry received several cold stares upon his entry and found Malfoy talking easily with Pansy Parkinson. She was staring at him with a dreamy, far-off look in her eyes that made Harry feel a small twinge of irritation.  
“Sorry, babe,” he said. “Duty calls.”

“Do you have to?” she pouted.

“‘Fraid so, if I’d like to keep on passing Defense Against the Dark Arts,” he simpered. He patted her, almost degradingly, on her head. “I’ll have more free time tomorrow, thankfully.”

Harry swallowed thickly and said to Malfoy, quite curtly, “Come on, I’d like to begin instead of having you make small talk with others from your House.”

Malfoy bid goodbye to Pansy, and of course, caught onto Harry’s irritated look.

“Problem, Potter?” Malfoy asked innocently. “What has got your cloak in a knot?”

“Just get your homework out,” Harry said shortly.

Malfoy peered over his shoulder, then turned back to Harry. “I’m going to kiss you.”

Harry flushed. “What—mphhh—“

Malfoy kissed him, hands finding his chest—Harry’s hands stayed lamely at his side for a minute until he nudged forward, inches apart from one another.

When they pulled away, Harry just stood there with his arms awkwardly out where they had been on Malfoy’s hips. He felt angry, not with Malfoy, but with himself to allow him to go along with Malfoy’s antics. It wasn’t like he liked it. 

_But you do like it_ , a small voice said in his head. _Otherwise you wouldn’t let it go on._  
“What was that for?” Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged. “Wanted to,” he said, and uncharacteristically, leaned forward to kiss Harry on the cheek. “Problem?”

Harry’s heart was beating fast. “No.”

“Good.”

Harry suddenly felt very anxious. He looked over, double-checking to make sure that Pansy was indeed out of the room. “You have to be more careful. We have to keep this a secret,” Harry said, hearing the worry in his own voice. “This can’t get out.”

“Keep what a secret?” Malfoy blinked.

“This… us… whatever we’re doing,” Harry replied with unmasked annoyance. 

Malfoy just hummed, throwing his arms around Harry’s neck and kissing along his cheek.

“Malfoy,” Harry said more firmly before his mouth could travel further. He found himself to be distracted easily when in Malfoy’s presence.

Malfoy looked up, appearing annoyed. “What?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah. Secret. No worries,” he said. 

Harry nodded. Anxiety still made his chest tight. “I don’t know why…” he said, trailing off.

Malfoy, not detaching his lips, looked up. “Why what?”

“Nothing, carry on,” Harry said mindlessly.

“No, go on,” Malfoy looked rather amused.

“I don’t know why I like this so much,” Harry admitted in such a rush, he immediately felt winded. “Why I like you, kind of.”

“Kind of?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he opened the book and flipped to the proper page. He pondered this, then shrugged, “Couldn’t tell you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and opened his own book. He began to delve into explanations about the importance of jinxes and anti-jinxes and how some are more useful than others.

However, thirty minutes into the lesson, Malfoy was trying to touch Harry’s neck, his hair, and tried to distract Harry by kissing along his neck open-mouthed again. 

“I’m tired of this,” Malfoy complained, looking up as he paused from his work along Harry’s neck. “I’m bored. Entertain me.”

Harry swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the hot, wet feeling on his neck.

Harry flicked his fingers in annoyance. “No, you have to finish going over your essay,” he said and pushed Malfoy away, gently as he could. “It counts as a big part of your grade. If you want to pass this class, you’ll have to do decently well on it.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Big words. Very boring, Potter.”

Harry leaned back, crossing his arms. “Not much else I can do about that.”

Malfoy stared disdainfully at the parchment. He set the quill down, pushed the parchment away, and turned his stare onto Harry. “I’ve got something less boring.”

With that, Malfoy kissed Harry roughly. It took him by surprise but it also caused a wonderful new feeling to spread through him. He felt Malfoy hand slide up his back and bury themselves in his messy hair.

The other hand slid and hovered over his throat

Gasping, Harry tilted his head and ran his tongue along Malfoy’s lower lip experimentally. He found himself pulling Malfoy on top of him again. He could hardly believe that his raging hormones would allow him to simply sit here and be kissed by none other than Draco Malfoy. 

They broke away for breath, but Malfoy didn't seem satisfied. He moved his head down and started kissing along his neck. Harry felt him begin to suck, bite, and lick. That caused a burn in his stomach. It was then that Harry tilted his head back and moaned.

Malfoy leaned back and cursed. Harry watched him sit up but didn't move himself. He felt as though he were made of rubber and could only imagine the mark that had been left on him.

Harry’s mind was foggy. He swallowed thickly and exhaled. “Well,” he said. “Now that you’ve had your fun, finish your paper.”

Malfoy smirked. He slid back down into his chair. “Yes, professor.”

Harry wanted him from those words alone and, resisting the urge to slide into his lap, focused on flipping through the pages. 

Carefully, he watched him writing, making corrections every once in a while. He pointed to areas in the textbook that he felt may be helpful and, for the first time, Malfoy seemed to be interested and diligent in his work.

Maybe it was the topic (the usefulness of a Stinging jinx), but Harry was able to watch him write with a thoughtful, soft look on his face.

Malfoy caught his eye. “What, Potter?”

Harry shook his head. “You just write nicely. I never knew you could write so well.”

Malfoy snorted into his hands. He was quiet and then mumbled a small, “Thank you.”

“So you do have manners,” Harry mused. “Interesting. Never would have guessed.”

“For your own health and safety, I’ll pretend I didn't hear that one,” Malfoy said.

“How kind and gracious,” Harry remarked. He also went quiet and continued to watch him write. He then leaned forward, hand on his fist, and said, “You’re also a good kisser.”

Malfoy nearly knocked the ink bottle over, catching it narrowly. He glared at Harry. “Not funny.”

“Just a compliment,” Harry said. “Pansy know you kiss that well?”

Now, Malfoy looked indignant. “Wait a damn minute, Potter, what kind of insinuation are you making? Pansy may have a thing for me but we are not involved.”

Harry was surprised by his defensiveness.

“Not that it would be a problem if she and I were—”

“Right.”

“Because you and I are not,” Malfoy continued, not seeming to notice that Harry had not objected to this. “So, I can see whoever I like.”

“Correct.”

“She likes me, but I think she’s a bit air-headed,” he continued. “I don’t care for her like that.”

“I see.”

“Do not patronize me, Potter,” Malfoy growled. “I’m just telling you as it is. And, I ask you not to involve yourself with my fellow Slytherins. What’s my business is just that—mine.”

And, with that, he began to write again. Now, however, he worked more stiffly and silently. When he was done, he did not so much as touch Harry before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment please! make my day :)


	10. sorry

Much as the thought pained him, Harry came to the realization that night that he would have to apologize—he winced—to Malfoy. He had been avoiding him all week, more than usual, and had even neglected to show up to their tutoring session.

In class, Malfoy made sure that he kept his eyes resolutely on the professor and, the moment class was over, he would leave flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. It was impossible to get him alone.

Harry found himself back in the Slytherin common room, then began to meander through the king halls of their dormitories until he came to Malfoy and Zabini’s door.

He began to knock angrily. He had had quite enough of Malfoy acting like a child over a joke about kissing Pansy Parkinson.

Zanini opened their door and immediately bristled. “Potter,” he said sourly. “What are you doing in the Slytherin dormitory? Who gave you the password.”

“I’ve been tutoring Malfoy in the Slytherin common area, you know this,” Harry snapped. “His preference not mine. Also, not very clever of a password. Sea serpent? Quite pathetic.”

Zabini looked taken aback, going from looking interrupted to purely offended. “Potter, if you don’t find yourself out of here, I have the nerve to go straight to—“

“Zabini?” Harry heard a drawling voice. “What are you doing? Who’s there? Is it Goyle with my food because I’m positively starved—oh.”

Malfoy went white. “Potter,” he said stiffly. “We don’t have tutoring tonight, in case your tiny brain has neglected to remember.”

“I’m aware,” Harry retorted. “But, I would like to talk to you for a moment.”

Zabini looked between them, seeming unsure as to what to do. 

Malfoy didn’t move. “Okay, talk.”

“Privately,” Harry said between his teeth.

“No, come on,” Malfoy challenged. “If you’ve got a problem, just come out and say it.”

“Malfoy, I don’t think—“

“I know you don’t, Potter, that’s why I’m doing the thinking.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Harry said, in a rush. “I’m sorry about what I said about Pansy and you. I wasn’t trying to insinuate anything at all, and I know it’s your business.”

Malfoy looked even more embarrassed, as if he had not been expecting this. 

Zabini just seemed shocked, then embarrassed as he lowered his eyes and tried to scoot out of the way. He evidently had not expected to be between something personal between the two.

Malfoy stood there lamely, as if unsure what to say. His mouth was parted in slight surprise and his hands remained at his side. “Oh,” he said, at last. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You came over here to tell me that? Why?”

“Well, you seemed upset by it.”

“So?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you care if you upset me?”

Harry felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

He sneered. “Typical savior complex.”

Harry reddened. “I’m not trying to be a savior, I’m just trying to be nice!”

“Even to me?”

“Especially to you.”

“Especially?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be egging Harry on. “Why is that?”

“Don’t,” Harry said, and was aware of how in-pain he sounded. “Here is not the place for this sort of conversation.”

Malfoy went from angry to suddenly looking understanding, looking over his shoulder. “You’re right, I don’t think this is the place for something like this.”

Harry just stared, his hands balled into fists.

“Okay,” Malfoy said. “You apologized. You can leave.”

“You forgive me?” Harry said, now not even genuinely wanting forgiveness but instead wanting to put Malfoy on the spot. He was also bothered by Malfoy’s response, which seemed as dismissive and nonchalant as ever.

“Does that matter?” Malfoy bristled. “Get out of our common room.”

Zabini budged back into the way. “Problem, Malfoy? I knew he was up to no good. I just knew it,” he said excitedly, as if hoping to have to back-up a fight.

“No,” Harry said quickly. He did not particularly want to get into a fight in the Slytherin dorms where he would undoubtedly be outnumbered and widely disliked. “I’ll be leaving.”

Harry was very aware of Malfoy’s eyes on him as he left the room. Feeling stupid, he tore out of the Slytherin common room while ignoring the judgemental, suspicious eyes on him as he left.

Harry cursed himself. He should have known better to try to be nice to someone like Malfoy. He would never change and it was about time that he accepted that.

Harry just finished washing up and was beginning to get ready to sit on his bed, when he heard a noise. He heard yelling between Ron and a familiar voice that made him feel cold.

“Harry!”

Harry skidded into the room, shocked to find Malfoy in the doorway, his wand pointed at Ron and Ron’s at Malfoy. They were in the midst of a yelling match, both furiously cursing the other. 

“I’ll show you, Weasel!” Malfoy snarled, “Don’t you dare talk badly about my mum, or I swear you will suddenly find yourself unable to have children.”

“As if you’ve never said anything bad about my mum, I think calling yours a cow is pretty tame from all the things you’ve said about mine,” Ron threw back.

Harry wedged his way between the two, who were practically inches apart and still cursing and spewing venomous insults.

“Put your wand down!” Harry interjected loudly. “Put it down now!”

“Yeah!” Ron said challengingly, glaring over Harry’s shoulder at Malfoy.

“You too,” Harry rounded on him, which led to a great amount of shock and offense etching into Ron’s face. He wavered, only lowering his arm before Harry delivered a stern look.

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded the moment they both had their wands at their hips.

“I wanted to talk,” Malfoy said coldly, still boring holes into Ron with his eyes. “To you. And this one immediately pulled his wand out on me.”

“Yeah, right. Talk,” Ron scoffed disbelievingly. “Jinx half the Gryffindor Quidditch team, more like. I don’t buy that for a second, Harry! Do you?”

Harry ignored this. “You said it yourself, Malfoy, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Malfoy grew angrier, his own wand still half aloft. “Call your ginger friend off, and let’s go discuss next week’s assignment. I find it will be easier if we clear things up.”

Ron looked utterly lost now. He kept swinging his head back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, as if half-expecting one of them to explode at any moment.

Harry exhaled slowly. His heart was thudding and he remembered just how stubborn Malfoy could be, so decided it would be best to just give in and get the talking over with.

“It’s okay, Ron,” he said, but Ron cast him an anxious look. “I think it was just a misunderstanding.”

Ron grumbled but pocketed his wand, very slowly albeit. He continued to glance between the two, balling and unballing his fist as though that were his preferred weapon anyway.

“Let’s go outside,” Harry murmured to Malfoy

“Alone?” Ron squeaked. “He’s gonna hex you!”

“I’ve got my wand on me,” Harry said, feeling bad for Ron who was clearly bewildered. “It’s okay.”

Ron nodded slowly, clutching his hand around his wand until his knuckles went white. “I’m here if you need me, mate. Just call and I’ll be there to hex his—“

“Thank you, Ron,” Harry said and strode out, not turning to look at Malfoy until they were halfway down the hallway. His head and heart were pounding and he was aware of Malfoy’s heavy breathing at his side.

He then turned and said, “You said you didn’t want to talk, and I’m fine with that. I already apologized anyway, so I’m okay.”

Malfoy was stubborn, crossing his arms. “Yes, you apologized. Why?”

“I already told you,” Harry snapped. “It’s the nice thing to do.”

“Why be nice to me?” Malfoy looked skeptical still.

“Well,” Harry said slowly. “We are kind of… around each other more… and things have been going on between us—“

“So you think we’re a couple,” Malfoy cut him off in an accusatory voice. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong—“

“I never said that,” Harry hissed. He felt his chest tighten a bit, however, and tried to push away the slight hurt in his voice. “I just wanted to do the right thing, and yes that includes you.”

Malfoy just looked bored now. He was beginning to impatiently run his hands through his hair. “That’s the most I’ll understand, so I’ll take it,” he said nonchalantly.

“Glad we cleared up nothing,” Harry mumbled. He began to turn, suddenly wanting to be enjoying chocolate frogs with Ron in the Gryffindor common room, with Hermione at their side.

“And—Potter?” he asked, just as Harry began to walk away, now more frustrated than before.

“What?” Harry snapped.

“You can still kiss me,” Malfoy muttered. His arms were crossed and he was studying his shoes suddenly, as if they were very interesting.

Harry did not know what to say. He felt, if anything, even more offended. He felt disbelief rising up in his chest—it was his turn to be angry. 

“You’re afraid,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “Afraid of liking me, afraid of what your father will say—what your friends will say. I don’t care. Don’t come and try to act like nothing is going on, when you clearly have feelings—at least some feelings—for me.”

Malfoy straightened up. He went redder and redder, a high blush forming on his cheeks.  
He breathed hard. “What are you talking about?”

Harry gave him a scathing look. “You want to kiss and have sex and hang out, but you don’t like me?” he inquired. “Right, makes tons of sense.”

Malfoy was evidently taken aback, mouth slightly open, and refused to meet Harry’s eye. He seemed as though he were trying, and failing, to find the proper words.

“Go on,” Harry encouraged. He felt  
a vindictive rush of pleasure. “Nothing to say now, huh?”

Malfoy scowled. “Forget I showed up then!”

“Gladly!” Harry swore, kicking the wall. He instinctively grabbed his wand.

Malfoy tensed and he also grabbed his wand. For a moment, they were eye-to-eye with wands extended and pointed at each other. 

“I said just forget it,” Malfoy said more loudly than before. “I regret ever coming over here, and Weasel-by was right: I should have hexed you.”

“Put your wand down,” Harry replied tightly, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. “Now.”

“You first,” Malfoy said, without breaking eye contact.

“Both of us,” Harry retorted. 

There was a few seconds of tension before he lowered his wand a mere fraction. Malfoy followed, also dropping his wand until they both slipped them back in their pockets. 

“I’ll be going then,” Harry said, mouth a flat line.

“Bye,” Malfoy said challengingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make my day and comment


	11. hate fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make me smile and comment :)

The next tutoring session was filled with fury and snide comments. They began by insulting each other, and Malfoy was quick to go after Harry’s dead parents—with Harry retorting that at least they had never been a follower of You-Know-Who.

At least, Harry said to himself, Malfoy showed up to this session. They were both cold and short with each other. It was almost worse than when they first began.

Mirrors surrounded them as they worked. Today was more hands-on—and Harry wished  
that was as literal, because he wanted to punch Malfoy something awful. 

He was sneering and talking poorly of Ron so often that Harry would have to redirect his focus back to his wand work and incantations. This task alone was not easy because Malfoy was resolute in his negative mood.

Harry tried to reason himself back to being a tutor, a task that proved difficult. He knew that practicing with mirrors would them would allow Malfoy to become more easily disoriented, something he needed to know how to combat when studying defensive tactics.

“Merlin, you aggravate me,” Malfoy snapped. “This spell is impossible.”

“Just, try it this way! Watch me,” Harry said, and flicked his wand.

“I hate this,” Malfoy growled. “These mirrors are so disorienting. I can’t do this.”

“That’s the point,” Harry pointed out tightly. “It’s supposed to teach you to focus.”

“I just can’t do it,” Malfoy continued to complain. “This is absurd. I’m tired of this and I’m tired of being around you.”

Harry came up behind him and tried to guide Malfoy’s arm, which was flailing wildly instead of with a controlled flick as they spoke the spell. Harry ignored this comment and bit the inside of his cheek. “Cause you’re doing it wrong, you absolute empty-headed git.”

Malfoy whirled around abruptly, and they were inches apart. “Don’t you speak to me that way.”

“Turn. Around,” Harry said through his teeth. “I’m trying to help. And I’ll speak to you any way I want.”

Malfoy didn’t move. 

“I said turn around,” Harry repeated, more coldly now. He stared at Malfoy’s mouth unwillingly. He was grabbing Malfoy’s sides and trying, to no avail, to get him to listen.  
The Slytherin’s face was pink with anger. “Or so help me,” Harry continued, feeling hot with frustration and—Harry’s pants were suddenly tight as he watched Malfoy squirm and curse at him with a loathing stare, “I’ll turn you around myself, bend you over, and fuck you right here on this floor.”

Malfoy stopped squirming and said coolly, “That’s supposed to scare me?”

And then, Harry grabbed Malfoy’s belt and undid it. He turned Malfoy around forcibly, who hissed and thrashed at first due to a preference for being in control, but moaned when Harry found his cock.

“Fuck you!” Malfoy muttered, “You absolute fucker, I hate you and your hands and your cock and your stupid personality and your—oh, yes!”

Harry turned him around hastily and yanked his pants down. He felt for his hole and, in a matter of minutes, worked him open as Malfoy groaned. 

Malfoy gripped him to prevent from falling over.

“Maybe you’ll listen to me next time,” Harry murmured, and entered him harshly. Malfoy let out a gasp that turned into noises of delight as Harry began to build a slow rhythm.

They both collapsed to the floor, Harry on top of Malfoy. 

Before long, Harry had a fistful of blonde hair and was rutting into him roughly against the floor. An image of them caught Harry’s eye in the mirror. He could see Malfoy, with his mouth open and his eyes half-lidded as Harry penetrated him.

Malfoy, the typically dominant, controlling, and confident Slytherin, was crying and whimpering like a small puppy. He kept begging, absolutely pleading for more.   
Harry had never seen him so needy, and Merlin that made him want it more.

Harry, suddenly feeling brave, leaned down against Malfoy’s ear. “I want you to watch yourself get fucked, do you understand?” Harry continued, taunting him. “Imagine if your father could see you now, begging for Harry Potter’s cock.”

Malfoy let out a sob of pleasure, pink rising to his face at Harry’s words. 

“What do you think?” Harry was almost shocked by his confidence, or maybe it was Malfoy’s reaction that made him feel so comfortable speaking to him like this. “You think it would be humiliating for your father to find you writhing underneath Harry Potter, taking his cock so very well?”

Malfoy let out a noise that sounded like a cross between another sob and a moan. “Oh, my— Merlin, just fuck me— keep going,” he babbled. 

Tears rolled down his face. Harry pressed two fingers against Malfoy’s lips and the blonde happily opened them up to allow Harry to enter. The blonde sucked on them happily.

Harry used his other hand to jerk him off.

“You’re a slut, Draco Malfoy,” Harry whispered, and with that, Malfoy came with a high-pitched moan around Harry’s fingers. Come coated Harry’s hand as Malfoy shuddered through his orgasm.

Harry, at the feeling of him tightening and moaning through his fingers, craned his neck and came inside of Malfoy.

Harry continued to rock his hips absently until his orgasm died down, and then became aware of Malfoy whining desperately. Harry had continued to stroke his probably-overstimulated cock, which was still covered in white.

Harry let go. “Sorry,” he said, and pulled out.

Malfoy slumped to the ground, panting. “Damn, that--that was amazing, Potter.”

Harry was staring at him.

Malfoy eyed him. “What?” he asked, somewhat self-consciously.

“You’re kind of a bottom at times,” Harry commented.

Malfoy snorted and rolled over pointedly. “Don’t get used to it, Potter.”

Harry just kissed his back, marveling at the scratch marks he had left all over it.

“We’ll see,” Harry said.

Then, Malfoy laughed. Not his smug kind, either. A real one.

He then kissed Harry. In a different way. Not his usual, hard and needy one. He kissed Harry softly, in a way that made his stomach feel light and fluffy instead of hot and tight.

The two cleared their throats. “Good work today,” Harry commented, slightly awkwardly.

“You too,” Malfoy said, equally as awkward.

“I meant with the work, not the sex.”

“Oh,” he said, and laughed again. The discomfort evaporated.

Harry yawned and raised his arms over his head. He pulled his sweater, which drooped over his hands, around him. 

Malfoy looked equally as worn out. 

Harry turned his head to look at him. “We're okay then? You forgive me?”

Malfoy looked to be fighting a grin. “Yes, Potter, I forgive you,” he said.

Harry felt oddly relieved and allowed them to lapse into silence. 

“You know,” Malfoy said suddenly. “Zabini went home for the weekend.”

Harry blinked stupidly. “What does that matter to me?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Potter, you’re so daft at times.”

Harry continued to look at him blankly, but instead of Malfoy taunting him further, he came over and cupped his face. He crouched down. “Would you like to stay with me?”

“Like, for sex?” Harry asked. He knew how dumb he sounded. “I would, but I’m tir—“

“Lay with me,” Malfoy cut him off but refused to look at Harry. He was looking highly embarrassed. “I’ll hold you. We can sleep. I want you with me tonight.”

Malfoy didn't smile, but he did light up quite a bit. It was evident in his eyes when he pushed his hair away. His features seemed less threatening suddenly.  
“Alright,” Harry said.

"Alright," Malfoy echoed.

Harry stared, enjoying the way Malfoy was looking after their, er, activites; he looked messy, tear-stained, and soft-haired. The lines around his face vanished and his grey eyes seemed brighter.

They sat close for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. After so long of wanting to kill each other, it seemed dangerous to speak for fear of their momentary tethering truce would shatter.

"Is it alright if I kiss you?" Harry asked, surprising himself. 

Malfoy was positively stony-faced. "Yes."

Harry kissed Malfoy again, which he certainly didn't argue with. His fingers found his hair and pulled him closer, still trying to manage to shuffle forward.   
After a while, they pulled away and sat in silence. It was awkward, but it was also just them trying to understand all that was happening. It was confusing.

Harry breathed out and put his head in the crook of Malfoy’s neck. He always forgot how significantly taller Malfoy was by comparison to him. He smelled quite good, Harry noted to himself; he would never admit this to him, though.


	12. stubborn

Harry had been wearing a scarf for two days in a row, but on that third day, he woke up late for class and rushed to Snape’s without it. His hair was untidy, in a disarray, and he barely had time to button up his shirt.

When he sat down in class, he was unaware of the people gaping at him until he saw that Ron had joined in. 

“What?” Harry asked.

Ron ducked head down and whispered to Harry in a voice so low, he had to lean in also to hear him say, “You shack up with someone, mate? You got a girlfriend?” 

Harry, mortified, attempted to pull the collar of his sweater up. He had forgotten all about the bright purple mark on his neck that was now garnering attention from the whole class, including but not limited to Snape and Draco Malfoy.

Harry looked at his desk. He awkwardly pulled at his collar again while Ron continued to poke at him to get his attention.

Hermione leaned over also. Her eyes were gleaming. “Who is it? Is it her?”

“Her?” Ron echoed, sounding disdainful. “You told Hermione? You told Hermione and not me? C’mon mate! Let me in on it!”

“No!” he said, a bit too loudly. He immediately lowered his voice and glared at Hermione. “It’s nobody you know personally, and I’d like to just keep it that way if you two don’t mind.”

“But,” Hermione protested. “Who else could it be?”

“Nobody, Hermione,” Harry admonished. “Just a fling. Nothing serious.”

She grabbed his sleeve desperately. “Oh, come on. You know us girls. We have to know all the latest.”

Harry pulled his robe away. “And I said it’s nothing,” he said, more firmly this time. He was surprised by how stern he had sounded and could chalk that up to the sudden panic he was feeling. “Don’t worry about it.”

It was at that moment Draco Malfoy stood up and sauntered over. Harry sat, silently praying he didn’t start anything, but his prayers were not answered because the Slytherin stood right in front of his table.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, Potter?” Malfoy asked disbelievingly. “Some miracle.”

Harry found himself irritated by this behavior. Especially when they both knew Malfoy was the one who had left his saliva and teeth marks all down the side of his throat.  
“And I don’t see you with one,” Harry replied smartly.

Malfoy just flicked his wand. “M’not the settling down type,” he said. “They all would rather just get in bed. I’ve got a hundred girls just dying to take my last name, though.”

Harry snorted. He couldn’t imagine why, but the thought of a hundred girls trying to get at Malfoy made him feel bothered. Made him annoyed, made his cheeks flush red, and his throat dry. He exhaled, trying to push the thought away. 

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said. “Thank you for that, Malfoy. Now, get out of the way.”

“Who is she?” Malfoy asked in a soft voice.

Harry looked up and, to his surprise, so did Ron and Hermione to look at him eagerly. For once, they looked just as curious as Malfoy. He could have sworn he saw a couple of the other Gryffindors glance over in their direction too.

“What?” Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Malfoy sneered. “Who are you sleeping with?”

Instead, Harry stood, until he was almost nose-to-nose with the blonde. “It’s none of your concern who I’m sleeping with,” he said, and then dropped his voice so low only the two of them could hear it. “Isn’t that right, Draco?”

Malfoy had to bite his lip to resist a smirk.

A different voice startled Harry.

“Potter,” Snape drawled. He cleared his throat and opened a textbook on his desk, tapping it with his wand pointedly. “If you’re quite finished being the class celebrity and ladies’ man, I’d like to begin teaching.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, and decidedly zoned out. He was relieved that all of the attention had been moved off of him.

For once, he was extraordinarily relieved to have heard Snape’s voice as it silenced Ron and Hermione and sent Malfoy sauntering back over to join his friends. His face, Harry noticed, was screwed up with great annoyance. 

It wasn’t until Harry had been walking down the corridors after class, mindless as his thoughts were elsewhere, when two hands grabbed him by the neck of his robes. He felt his throat tighten as his tie was forcibly yanked into a side-passage.

Harry sputtered weakly, coughing, as the hand released him and—and it was Malfoy.

Malfoy, whose eyes were dark with something Harry couldn’t name, grinned.

“Fancy to show off my handiwork this morning, did you Potter?” Malfoy asked quietly, tracing his hand along the bruise on his neck.

Harry’s heart thumped rapidly as he felt Malfoy’s hand on his neck. 

“Malfoy! Don’t grab me like that!” Harry reprimanded.

“I said,” Malfoy repeated. “Did you enjoy that, Potter?”

“I didn’t mean to. I was late this morning…” Harry stammered. He looked up and fought the itching instinct to go for his wand.

He trailed off as Malfoy pressed his hips against his own. He began to rock them absently, making Harry clutch at his robes. He could get used to this, he thought, as his head leaned back and hit the wall painfully.

But, he couldn’t bring himself to care because Malfoy was holding onto him and he could feel his hands trailing around him lazily. 

“Malfoy,” Harry started. With embarrassment, he heard his breath hitch. “Anyone could see us.”

“And anyone would be able to see you behaving like a slut for me, don’t you see?” Malfoy soothed him, running a finger over his cheekbones as he continued to press against Harry. Harry could feel his pants growing tight.

“No,” Harry murmured. “I’m in charge.”

Malfoy audibly barked a laugh and grinned. He proposed, “How do you figure?”

“I don’t have to tutor you.” 

Malfoy stopped rocking his hips, putting his hands on Harry’s chest. “We both know that won’t happen,” he said coolly, looking unbothered. He continued after a moment.

“How do you figure?” Harry parroted.

“Because, what started out as you picking up some extra change has turned into an addiction for my cock,” Malfoy said, each word enunciated with a press of his lips to Harry’s neck. “But, if that’s what you want… So be it.”

Harry’s mind grew fuzzy. For a second, he could not process what Malfoy was telling him. “What?”

Malfoy stepped away suddenly. His eyes revealed nothing. “So, you’re not my tutor anymore,” he said. “I won’t require your services.”

Harry couldn’t tell if Malfoy was messing with him. He didn’t say anything. 

“After all, my grades are at least passing now,” Malfoy shifted his robes to hide his, um, excitement. His face was pink. “Which is all I need.”

“You need more than just passing to get a decent job in the Ministry,” Harry tried to muster, but it came out stammering and weak. “You said that’s what you want to do.”

“Very attentive of you, Potter, but thankfully I do have my father as a part of the ministry,” Malfoy shrugged. He took a step closer, to where Harry could feel his breath on his lips, but he did not move in to kiss him. “But if you don’t want to tutor me anymore… that’s fine.”

He walked away with a taunting look, waving comically. He looked slightly amused at the ridiculous look that was inevitably bewildered.

Harry stuttered, unsure, as Malfoy just smiled. He knew that he was doing this to just get a reaction and yet, Harry could not help but provide him one with a look of bewilderment.

“I didn’t mean…”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“I…” Harry said, and closed his mouth. This was his chance to be rid of Malfoy, to put a stop to all the madness, to let this weirdness end. 

Malfoy just shrugged. “See you around, Potter.”

Harry just stood, frozen on the spot, with his mouth stupidly hanging open as he stared after Malfoy, who disappeared down another passage.

Harry’s pride prevented him from correcting himself. He remained rooted at the spot and fought the run after him.

It was not an argument or a fight. Malfoy was just trying to get a reaction out of him, Harry tried desperately to remind himself. He would come around in a day or so to write it off as a joke, surely. Or maybe it wasn’t and Harry had rid of him for good.

That would be a positive thing, Harry tried to tell himself half-heartedly.

It was growing dark very late now. Only then was the sun beginning to dip lower beneath the tops of the mountains, a gentle golden light filling the Gryffindor common room. The late sunshine and warm rooms were making all students feel at ease.

This put everyone in a good mood except for Harry, who was still rather offended and confused by Malfoy’s display from earlier.

“You tutoring Malfoy tonight?” Ron asked at last, which only soured Harry’s mood further.

It was already five, nearing dinner-time.

Hermione was also sitting on the couch, book in hand, as she swung her legs. “Oh, right. Isn’t that at 6?” she asked.

At the mention of his name, Harry’s jaw tightened but he didn’t look up from his own book. “Actually,” he interjected. “I’m not tutoring him anymore.”

The two stared at him. They blinked.

“Oh?” Hermione said, then spoke quickly as if she were reciting lines. “I thought Snape wanted you to work with him til the end of the semester? He said he’d drop your grade, Harry!”

“Well, it appears Malfoy has other ideas,” Harry said. He felt bad lying to his friends, but at the same time it was not totally incorrect. Except, it felt more like a weird enemies-with-benefits but also some unadmitted feelings break-up.

Hermione and Ron exchanged uneasy looks.

Ron then slapped him on the back. “You got rid of him! Good for you.”

Harry laughed weakly. “Yeah, true.”

Hermione pursed her lips, staring at him quizzically, so Harry hurried to make a couple of rude comments about Malfoy, and her curious look deflated slightly.

Harry exhaled and looked off. 

“You don’t seem all too happy to have gotten rid of him,” Hermione said.

“Are you kidding?” Harry asked defensively, his voice suddenly raising a few octaves. “I couldn’t be more happy to be rid of that spoiled aristocratic git.”

“At least he put a little excitement into your day,” Hermione shrugged.

“What?” Harry snapped. “You think I don’t have enough going on without that one relentlessly making rude comments about my parents? Of course Snape just wanted to make me miserable, though.”

Ron and Hermione fell into an uncomfortable silence where they glanced at one another.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. 

“It’s okay,” Hermione said, but still looked curious. 

“Why don’t we go play a game of Quidditch?” Ron suggested. “It’s a nice afternoon and I finished my homework—Hermione helped,” he added, when she had cleared her throat pointedly.

Harry nodded. “Sure,” he agreed, but his mind was nowhere near the game. 

In fact, a half hour later, when he was mounting his broomstick, he could have sworn he saw a white-blonde blur watching him from inside the castle.


	13. admit it

A week went by.

Harry did not miss Draco. Not even a little bit. Not the late night make-out sessions or teaching him how to properly ward off trolls or watching him change back into his suit. None of that.

Harry groaned to himself, using the palm of his hand to hit his forehead. Pathetic. 

He saw Malfoy around the castle, but it wasn’t enough. It hurt desperately that he was unable to go and see Malfoy, touch him, kiss him, cuddle alongside him in bed once they’ve finished their “homework”.

He found himself waiting outside the Slytherin common room, waiting for a particular cocky Slytherin to emerge. He was unsure of how he came to this point but he, almost possessed, Harry busied himself by pretending to lean against a window for light to read his Charms textbook.

Malfoy exited thirty minutes prior to their first class. His hair was less gelled than usual, his eyes bright and cunning per usual, and his textbooks held to his chest.  
Harry practically leapt up, but had to restrain himself to approach him coolly. He did not feel as sanguine as he tried to appear.

Malfoy stopped and looked at him but said nothing. Slowly, calmly, he set his textbooks down on the floor beside him, crossed his arms, and gave Harry a dark look.

Harry took a breath. He could barely bring himself to look at Malfoy without feeling somewhat embarrassed. “I’ll tutor you again.”

Malfoy was quiet for a long time. He seemed to be thinking, considering, running over thoughts in his mind. He was quiet for so long, in fact, Harry wanted to march over there and shake him irritably.

At last, he spoke: “No, I want you to admit it,” Malfoy chided in a decided tone. “Admit you want me. Admit you aren’t doing this just to tutor me.” 

Harry regarded him wearily. Malfoy was now looking far more confident than he was comfortable with. His throat felt cottony and dry. “What?”

Malfoy’s cold look suddenly turned plotting. “You know what I mean,” he continued, daring to drag a hand down Harry’s front before resting at his belt buckle. “You want me inside of you again, fucking you raw in an empty common room while everyone is at dinner?”

His words drove Harry insane. He felt like his skin was itching and burning and his trousers suddenly felt annoyingly tight. “Fine,” he said. “Then, you have to admit something too.”

Malfoy just raised an eyebrow, looking most displeased at the fact that Harry had just told him to do something.

“You have to admit you like me,” Harry challenged.

There was a pause where Malfoy’s cocky look suddenly disappeared again. His face was unreadable and, for a moment, Harry worried that he had misinterpreted everything. He worried that Malfoy’s sudden softness, his allowing Harry to sleep with his arms around him, his gentle kisses on the forehead, had all been just customary.

They lapsed into another long silence. The school around them seemed to vanish. 

He looked far away, looking past Harry as if he were trying to gather his words. Then, a slight blush, crawled over his cheeks and Harry couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

Malfoy looked away with a scowl. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered.

Harry’s face split into a grin. Relief washed through him as he watched Malfoy’s guard slip. "Like what?"

"All proud of yourself," Malfoy went on bitterly. "All proud because you got me to actually somewhat like you. Happy now?"

Harry leaned back, observing Malfoy. He had a slight flush on his cheeks and his white-blonde hair was frizzy. "Quite," he said at last. "I mean... I thought you hate me."

"I do."

"But you like me?"

"I do."

Harry allowed his head to fall forward, cocking it slightly. "And how does that even work?" he inquired.

Malfoy threw his hands up impatiently. "I don't know, Potter! That's just it," He said, and looked down. “I hate you, I want to fuck you all day every day, and I like you. I don’t understand it.”

Harry hesitated, nervous to go on with Malfoy so utterly irritated before him. "So... You do like me? Like, actually?”

Glaring, Malfoy fumbled with his robes. "I said that, didn't I?" He seemed to realize that if he wanted Harry to reciprocate, he would have to not be so rash; for him, this would be difficult and Harry knew it. "So, yes. I like you, alright? Want me to say it aloud again?”

Harry was never in a relationship with anyone besides Cho and Ginny, and both of those ended quickly. Besides, he was never with another man. Shuffling, he moved a bit closer to Draco cautiously.

Draco jumped at the movement now, almost appearing nervous—even though they had already done a number of despicable things to one another. "This is stupid," He said harshly, not looking at Harry. "I should just go."

"No!" Harry got out. "I like you too."

It took Harry a few long seconds to realize that he might have meant it. Did he like Malfoy? He had called Ron poor, purposely got Hagrid in trouble, called Hermione a wizarding slur, and had disrespected his parents.

Yet, recently, there had been a sadness in his eyes that Harry could not deny being curious about. And they had been fucking for almost two months now without any sort of label.

He wasn’t sure if he liked Malfoy truthfully. He thought that he just liked… the feeling, the idea, the rush of the secrecy. But he would be willing to find out if it were more than just that. There were times, after all, when Malfoy showed his vulnerable side and it made Harry feel rather warm inside. This, of course, was something he was not eager to admit.

Malfoy eyed him very suspiciously. “You… do? Like genuinely?”

Harry just grinned. Malfoy looked a bit younger now, hopeful, with a small trace of a smile in his expression. Malfoy’s eyes were wide, curious, and his face was looking less pointy. 

“Damn you,” Malfoy mumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the gel that had it in place. “Stupid Potter.”

Harry shifted back and forth, wringing his hands, and gazing up at Malfoy as if looking at him for the first time. He felt oddly exposed after such a vulnerable and honest conversation.

It was Malfoy who broke the silence with a soft, but tense, “Would you just kiss me?”

Harry hardly needed to be asked twice. He edged forward and wrapped his arms around Malfoy. He breathed in his sharp scent, watching the way his mouth curved up in a knowing smirk and pulled him in.

Harry then kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! Bookmark for updates! :)


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